The Artist's Loving Hand
by elle-nora
Summary: Now complete! Sequel to The Shattered Soul. As Methos and Eleanor retreat to Scotland to raise Derrick, Duncan MacLeod finds his hands full with an increasingly strong-willed Alisaunne. And in the shadows someone is hunting immortals.
1. Prologue

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Highlander: _The Artist's Loving Hand_

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Weathered faces lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

  
~from **_Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)_** by Don MacLean

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Author's Foreword

This is the third novella in a series, which began with "The Pilgrim Heart" and continued in "The Shattered Soul". These stories may be found elsewhere on FanFiction.net. The first section of this story allows for time to pass... and for changes to occur in our world and in the world of **Highlander**. As the story is set in the future... I cannot fully describe the world as it will be... but have attempted to extrapolate politics, technology, and attitudes from what they are... to what they might be in a few years' time. I make no claims to be a fortune-teller.

For readers just starting out, who would like additional background on Eleanor and all that has led her to the events of this story, please see the following stories.

**__**

The Bargain of Fergus McCurdy

Having lost his only child, a ninth century Scot makes a deal with a mysterious woman for a child who will never die. Note: on this board, this story is presented as a prologue to the following one.

**__**

Crossroads of Time

On a visit to the ninth century court of Scotland's first king, Methos meets a pre-immortal child who stirs in him memories of his own childhood... and the mysterious immortal he knew as Aja.

**__**

A Loaf of Bread, A Jug of Wine

Three hundred years after they parted, Methos meets Aella, now a student of his old friend Phillip... and the games begin.

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Stolen Child

Post **_Endgame_**, Duncan MacLeod meets Derrick, a ten-year old boy living on the streets with his "sister"... the mysterious immortal Ellie.

**__**

Please Remember Me

Having left Derrick in foster care, Eleanor journeys to Phillip's island home, so that she might finally deal with her grief over Darius' death. 

**__**

Sword of Power, Part Four: Sword of Vengeance

This chapter of the story is a re-telling of Eleanor's killing of Kae Dhun in 1832 from Darius' point-of-view. Previous stories in this grouping tell of how Methos first refused the sword but finally carried it for a while and why, and of Kae Dhun's killing of O ro' dred and Nin. These are stories which did not fit into the others… but do help explain some of what happened.

**__**

The Pilgrim Heart

When Methos meets Derrick, he and MacLeod discover they are drawn to protect the boy from immortals who would kill them all.

**__**

The Shattered Soul

Duncan and Methos search Paris for Darius' last student, while Phillip, on the road with Eleanor and Derrick, considers contacting Cassandra to help the traumatized boy.

And feedback... have we mentioned how much we _live_ for feedback? Comments and suggestions are always appreciated.

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NOTE: All song lyrics are used as section introductions are used without permission. The concept of **Highlander** and all canon characters from **Highlander: The Series** and **Highlander: The Raven** are the intellectual property of Gregory Widen, writer of the initial movie and Davis/Panzer _et al_. This story is not for profit… but it _is_ for fun. All non-canon characters are original with me and should not be used without permission.

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Prologue

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Paris, May 1993

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The stories are woven and fortunes are told

The truth is measured by the weight of your [soul]

~from **_Marrakesh Night Market_**, lyrics by Loreena McKennitt

Everything was done. Every letter written. Every clue put in place. Everything that he could do... had been done. If for some reason he did not live to see his task through to its conclusion, others could follow in his footsteps. Darius sat wearily down and leaned his head on his hands. He was so very tired these days. This course of action he'd undertaken in the past eight years had drained him more than he thought possible. He had recently begun to understand what Aja had meant before she died. How tired she was... how little strength she had left.

To the casual observer... or even to those he called friends... Darius knew he seemed as he had always seemed. In many ways he still was... and in others... he had greatly changed.

His eyes fell upon the scrap of MacLeod's tartan he'd stuffed into the wall. Duncan should notice that... to anyone else it would have appeared to be nothing of consequence. He looked about his cell. There was nothing left here that if it fell into the wrong hands could precipitate a catastrophe. He'd finished transferring all the artifacts and documents (after Cassius had scanned them onto the computer disc now hidden in the secret aperture of one wall of his cell) to a safe hiding place. He trusted that Phillip would remember how to find the disc if something unforeseen happened to prevent the priest's retrieving it when the time was right. It was only a back-up, after all. Another means of making certain the gathered research would not be lost... that the final truths might one day be understood.

He had not finished decoding the items... another ten years perhaps and their secrets would be his... but he no longer cared. He'd left everything for the others to work on if they wished. Let them spend a thousand years trying to understand the clues. The one portion Darius had finally decoded eight years ago had both excited and frightened him. To test its validity... he had betrayed his friends. He'd stolen time from them that they might never regain. His actions still weighed heavily on his conscience. He had not been a Roman Catholic priest for almost fourteen hundred years without some of it rubbing off on him.

He knew his old friends thought him crazy. Why else did he remain on holy ground? Why else spend centuries in one place living only a single life? Of what use was peace if the only hope for immortals was the game with its directive that "in the end... there could be only one..."? His first teacher had taught him those words! He'd taken them to heart and then killed his teacher... before gathering an army to march across the face of the known world... raping and pillaging. On that journey he had taken what he wanted in the sure and certain belief that he was destined to be the one.

Darius closed his eyes. It was not a past he was proud of. Yet it was his past... and it had helped to make him the man he now was. That and that last quickening. Was it arrogance and pride that had made him persist in a battle that he'd had no hope of winning? Had the Ancient One pulled back and stopped his assault once he'd won, for a reason? Darius had often wondered whether in that moment of capitulation the Ancient had seen something in the defeated Goth that had made him change his mind. The man had smiled and lowered his sword... allowing Darius to take his head and with it a power so great that even now... over fourteen hundred years later... Darius was still not certain of all of its ramifications.

That quickening had filled him with the knowledge that only by peace and by love could the game end with a positive outcome. He, Darius, must remain here and show by example that it was possible. By accepting the Ancient's quickening… Darius had also been faced with accepting his mission. But Darius' silent agreement with the utter peace of the Ancient had cost him dearly.

Had he made the right choice centuries ago? He could still remember with a warm softness his utter delight in watching the masked Eleanor dancing around that bonfire before the doors of the newly completed _Cathedral de Notre Dame_... and the knowledge that she was the dancer of his childhood vision. It was with her he would need to make a choice, Aja had whispered to him... and he'd been tempted... so very tempted to turn from the path he had chosen... and follow Eleanor's. But he'd remained... loving her in silence and in veiled words... but never acting on that love. He'd held her always at arm's length, never telling her how he truly felt.

Like the small part of Aja that dwelt within him... he had felt Aja's magic in the small immortal. It was a connection they shared... as if the two of them were in some cases... of the same mind. Oh not that they'd ever shared thoughts... but often they seemed to understand in one another's movements and expressions... the truth of the other's beliefs. Well... he'd understood her. But, had she ever understood him? Really understood him? Darius doubted it. It was no matter.

He was leaving this life now... hoping it was not yet too late. He needed to tell her what he'd done... of what he'd robbed her of. He needed to face her and accept his fate at her hands. Darius had almost told Methos last week when they'd met in secret at _Notre Dame_. Methos was concerned about a movement within the Watchers that he as yet... knew little about.

"Immortals are dying, Darius... and I don't think it's one of us. Leave here... before it's too late." The Old One had pivoted and left him in the semi-darkness of the cathedral after that. Things had been strained between them for several years. Darius was certain Methos suspected that the priest knew why it was that Eleanor had left Paris so suddenly... why she had refused to see him in the intervening years. Darius did know... but he also knew that Eleanor's reasons were because of Darius' lies to her about Methos. Eleanor had believed the lies... she had no reason not to.

It was time to make amends. They both needed to know what he'd done... he owed them that. He owed them the chance to regain what he'd robbed from them. But he needed to face Eleanor first.

The sound of the outer door of the church and the collective stride of several men entering the church at this odd hour alerted him that something was up. He rose... his eyes momentarily flickering to the hidden exit to the sewers, but if it were nothing? Shrugging, Darius walked cautiously toward the door of his cell and slowly opened it to see who had entered the church.

The blonde man standing at the door, hand raised to knock, smiled as if he had achieved something of great worth. "Brother Darius... I've long wanted to meet you. My name is James Horton," he said... his clipped English accent failing to hide the menace in his tone.

Darius backed up a step startled. He smiled warily. "How may I help you gentlemen?" He glanced around at the harsh faces of the party of men.

Horton's smile widened as he held up a tazer. Power lanced into Darius' system... for a moment overwhelming him. From deep within him... the last of the Ancients' power soared to life... Darius struggled in the electrical charge... finally overcoming it with a glare and a great roar. He shoved at the men and attempted to close his cell door.

The charge hit him again... but this time the waning power within him could thrust up only a thin barrier. He pushed weakly once more at Horton and the others.

Their arms gripped his.

"Who are you? Why do you do this?" he managed to utter as they began dragging him through the church.

"We are men!" asserted Horton. "There is no power on earth but that of men. Abominations will not be tolerated!"

Darius saw his death in their eyes. _No!_ He wanted to scream... _Not now... I still have something to do._ Once more he dug within him for the strength to throw them off. If he could get back to his cell... bar the door... perhaps it would delay them long enough for him to escape. With one final surge of strength he threw them off. He managed a brief escape... flinging chairs out of his path... but the men were too many for him. Swarming over him as once rats had swarmed over the living as well as the dead in the long ago plague years... they brought the immortal to his knees.

"_No! My warrior... there is another way!_"

For the first time in eight years he heard Aja's soothing voice. He continued his struggles. If he remained here... surely they wouldn't... _not here_! "I am no threat to you... This is a church!"

"And in it you will die!" Horton powered up the tazer once more shooting electrical current through Darius' weakening system as the others backed away momentarily. "Here you have no power... but we do!"

"_They will kill you, my warrior... but it will be their undoing. Choose Darius... would you recapture the past or forge the future!_"

"_The future!_" Darius thought... his mind thinking of Eleanor... of wanting to see her one more time, of wanting to make ammends.

The men reclaimed their grasp on the stunned priest. They had Darius' arms pulled out away from his body... pulled back. They were holding him so that all of his struggles were useless.

"_Then focus my warrior... the future can still be ours... but focus... All you are... all you have been... all you have learned... all you might one day become... Focus... With our help... mine and my beloved's... here... on holy ground... with none to receive what you are... there is a way. It might not work... but we can try._"

Darius stared into the cold eyes of James Horton as the blonde man raised an axe. The priest smiled at his murderer... "Thy will be done," he said quietly... his words aimed at both the mortal man... and the last remnant of the Ancients who had once dwelt within him.

Darius closed his eyes and focused.

As the blow fell... there was a momentary pain... then darkness... then he felt as though he were riding a current of electricity... down... into the cavern below the church where the elusive writing on the walls was suddenly so very clear to him. "I see!" he found himself exclaiming. But even then... the power charged once more through the darkness... until it found what it sought... and a baby's cry sounded.

"_Sleep my warrior... sleep until you are grown. Only then... when the others find you... will you awaken. To remember it all... you must be grown. Forge the future... be my warrior... be ever the surprise_!"

"And Eleanor?" For a moment everything faltered.

"_In time my warrior... in time_."

Darkness took Darius then ... and he let his memories sleep.


	2. Part One: Seasons of Love, Chapter 1

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Part One: _Seasons of Love_

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Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes...

How do you measure, measure a year?

~from **_Rent_**, lyrcis by Jonathon Larson

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Chapter 1

Scotland, June 2005

Twelve-year old Derrick gazed through the telescope in amazement. Although he could remember gazing at stars all his life... both this life and the other one that still only partially made sense to him... he somehow doubted he had ever truly seen stars.

"Wow, Adam! I feel like I could reach out and touch them." He glanced up at Adam and grinned at the immortal in thanks for the gift. Derrick had learned, at least officially, that both his "sister" Ellie and Adam were immortals... beings who didn't age and didn't die. Unofficially, Derrick knew far more, but he continued to hold his tongue on that, feeling he needed to be just a child for them... at least for now. At least until he was grown. He owed them that much at least. Besides... he was a child... a child who still needed to grow up.

"Star-gazing and mapping the lights of heaven has always been a passion of mine," Adam said lightly. "Here... where there is no civilization... no lights to interfere with our viewing... I thought you might enjoy the activity as well."

Derrick put his eye to the viewer once more and sighed happily at the panorama of the night sky the instrument offered him. He could see details on the moon. He could tell the difference between the planets of the solar system and the faraway stars. He could see so much that he had never seen with the naked eye that it boggled his mind. _Life and immortality are that way too! There is far more to both, than you have yet learned or remembered!_ Derrick mentally shushed the Ancient's voice. There was a time to listen and learn... and there was a time to just enjoy being a growing boy.

Behind them in the farmhouse, they heard a crash and a voice raised in exasperation. Both the immortal and the boy looked back at the house with matching grins.

"I'd say she's burned dinner again," smirked Adam, rolling his eyes.

"Looks like sandwiches again tonight," agreed the boy with a laugh.

Both were aware that Ellie... Eleanor... was hopeless in the kitchen. Yet for some reason neither of them could fathom, she had been insisting for the past year and a half that she could learn. So far her efforts had proven less than successful.

"Could she ever cook?" Derrick asked as he peered once more into the telescope... though in fact he did know the answer.

"Not that I recall." Adam tousled Derrick's sandy hair and leaned in to whisper, "I'd better go see what damage she's done this time. Don't be too long."

Derrick nodded his agreement, having already decided that unless called to dinner, he'd stay out here for an hour at least. He liked to give the immortal couple time to be alone together. He knew they'd been separated for centuries mainly by their distrust of one another... and fear that one day one of them might have to kill the other one. Recently they had at long last decided to commit to one another. The two had finally decided, through a series of adventures, almost two years ago that they truly loved one another and that they would chance living together once more. They had been married once... and this farm in southern Scotland had been their home. 

That had been while Eleanor had still been in her first life in the ninth century. After her death... murdered by a band of outlaws, Adam... Methos... had been her first teacher, before she'd left him to wander the world. Their lives had crossed occasionally in the intervening centuries since. Derrick once more reminded himself to call the old one Adam. While he could slip with Ellie's name... Adam's true name was another matter entirely.

Ever since the three of them had shared a vision of the Ancient called Aja in the seeing stone a few years ago, Derrick had been reluctant to tell the others exactly what he'd learned. That he finally knew that the memories of the immortal called Darius were a part of his memories... as were the memories of some of the immortals whose Quickening Darius had taken during his long life. Most of the time those memories did not make a whole lot of sense to the boy. They flashed through Derrick's mind in swift succession too quickly for him to seize, like a silent movie on fast forward. But sometimes... sometimes... Darius' memories of Methos and Eleanor came through clearly and in focus... in little things like knowing Eleanor's inability to cook... or in knowing Methos' true name. Again Derrick reminded himself to only use the name Adam even in his thoughts.

The closest he'd come to telling anyone the truth had been Duncan MacLeod. "I have some of the memories of Ellie's friend Darius, Duncan. I know you two were friends."

"How much do you remember?" the Highlander had asked him pointedly as they had wandered over the Battlefield of Waterloo.

Derrick had shrugged. "Not much. And what I do doesn't really make sense. It's like too much information trying to squeeze into too small a container."

Duncan had chuckled at the image, then gazed soberly out at the peaceful countryside, attempting to recall what it had been like in 1815, when Duncan MacLeod had first met the immortal priest Darius who had changed his life. Duncan was also an immortal, although a relatively young one... just over four hundred years of age. He finally had looked down at the boy soberly and said, "How can I help?"

"Don't tell them. They need time together. They need me to just be a little boy. Maybe when I'm grown... everything will make sense."

"And the research? Is it hidden here?"

Derrick had shaken his head. "I really don't know. I know it's important... but I also know it will keep... at least for now. Adam needs to take us away someplace safe… someplace where the Watchers will never find us. Don't tell anyone and don't try to find us. It's the only way. Besides... you need to watch Alisaunne."

"What do you remember about her?" Duncan's voice had an edge to it. Derrick hadn't been told exactly what had happened to the girl, only that she was safe. He had only the vaguest memory of meeting her briefly before the immortals had all left to trap and contain an insane immortal stalking the girl. Derrick, being only a little boy, had not gone, but stayed behind with a mortal friend of Adam's.

"Not much... just that Darius thought she was special. He kept an eye on her when she was small." That at least was the truth... if not quite the whole truth. Derrick did know something else about the girl... but he was not ready to share that information, not yet. At least, not with MacLeod.

The Highlander had agreed, and so the plans had been made. Adam, together with Eleanor and Derrick had vanished from the sight of the Watchers, and come to Scotland, to the home the couple had once shared so many centuries before. They'd had no further contact with MacLeod or with the Watchers, nor any other immortal, not even their friend Phillip. Here on this isolated and fairly sufficient small farm, they lived simply in much the way they might once have lived. Even Derrick found he did not mind the lack of electricity nor modern conveniences, as if the memories of those he carried were far more at home in this peaceful place than in the busy helter-skelter modern world.

Here he could grow up... grow into the potential within him. Then he would remember it all... when it was time. At least... that's what he seemed to understand.

He sat back and stretched, aware that he'd been staring at the stars for far longer than a mere hour. Quietly he rose, packing the telescope once more into it's case and returning to the farmhouse. Inside, an oil lamp was burning and there was a plate of sandwiches on the table.

If he listened... he could just hear the soft sounds of the two of them in their room. Adam was comforting Ellie and assuring her that her cooking disasters did not impact on his love for her. Derrick smiled. It was likely a conversation that they might have had twelve hundred years ago. The boy picked up a sandwich, covering the rest and placing them in the cold box for the night. He poured a glass of milk and retired to his room on the far end of the house. It might have been a servant's room once upon a time... perhaps the housekeeper's. Derrick found it easier to sleep if he were as far from the others as possible. And sleep was what he needed.

After polishing off the milk and the sandwich, he stretched out on the bed and gazed about him in the semi-darkness at the austere room. He'd been adding things of nature he'd found in the area... a wasp's nest, pressed leaves and dried flowers, oddly shaped stones, for example, but it was still rather plain. Unlike most boys' rooms it contained no posters, no pictures, no paintings or artwork, no tapestries. It mattered little. He was seldom in here except to sleep. Derrick reached one hand below the bed and withdrew a velvet bag. Opening it he dropped the Ancient's Crystal... the Stone of Seeing she'd called it... into his other hand and stared into it. When he'd first held it... it had showed him Cassandra... the immortal psychic poised to take Eleanor's head. He'd prevented that from happening. Then it had showed him the collective past of immortals... so quickly it had not fully made sense. Finally when the three of them... Adam, Eleanor and Derrick had held it... it had shown him the face of the Ancient called Aja.

Derrick did not know what the others had seen. To his knowledge they'd never spoken of it... even to one another. He had not told them what he had seen either. Nor of the choice he'd made. The same choice Darius had made... the same one the Ancient called Havron had made... the future over the past. Derrick did not need the past... nor would he seek to recapture it. It was the future that was important. Aja had smiled at that as though she had known, but had wanted him to be certain.

"_One day you will remember what you need... Until then... grow and be happy!_" she had seemed to say. But the nearness of the others had made him remember things he most likely shouldn't have... at least not yet. The stone had been quiet since that day a year and a half ago. No longer did it glow nor show him scenes of the past. But... with it under his bed... when he slept at night... sometimes the visions came back... and sometimes... he remembered them when he woke. And the more he remembered... the more he wanted to remember. It was as if the past wanted to claim him once more.

Derrick replaced the stone in its bag and placed it under his bed next to the box containing the sword of which he was also guardian. Until he'd agreed that it was his to watch and carry... the sword had seemed to whisper to the immortals around him, as if it were some great temptation. Now... it lay quiet in his keeping... though it still glowed red in sunlight as if stained with blood. It too would have to wait. He would need to be grown to wield it. Adam and Eleanor still kept silent on the truth of his immortality. But Derrick knew it was a part of him... but not today... nor anytime soon.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift... Soon he seemed to wander in lands he'd never seen and heard thoughts that were not his own. With a great cry... he seemed to call forth armies of destruction to wreak havoc upon the earth.

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France, June 2005 

Gina de Valicourt, her arms laden with shopping bags and parcels, managed to get the front door of the chateau open. "Yoo hoo... Robert... I'm back... I could use some help!" She could sense Robert somewhere in the _chateau_. Normally her husband of over three hundred years was here to greet her at the door whenever she returned from buying out the stores.

"Wait until you see what I found today." Gina divested herself of the packages and rummaged through one of them withdrawing a black lace negligee she had purchased. Removing her coat, she held the filmy gown against her and went in search of Robert, noticing he must have given the servants the day off again as none were about. "Robert? Where are you my darling?" Laughing and loving the game of hide and seek, they often played when the servants were gone, the petite dark-haired immortal beauty tip-toed through the empty rooms calling Robert's name. He was here... she could feel him... all she had to do was keep looking.

Finally she sensed him within their bedroom. Gina arranged the gown before her and flung wide the doors to dance into the room. Laughing as only a woman in love can laugh... she twirled into their room to see Robert's body lying still and dead on the floor... a pool of blood soaking the carpet.

"Robert?" Gina looked around at a sound... and knew nothing more.


	3. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

Paris, July 2005

Joe Dawson fiddled with his collar and necktie. He was not by all accounts a formal man. Indeed… he rather liked his laid-back style. But Amy had said this was important, and Joe did want to make a good first impression.

Ever since Amy had moved back to Paris last year, Joe had enjoyed seeing her weekly as they would meet somewhere for dinner. They'd talk of the weather, sports, music, politics, but never the Watchers. That was a rule they'd set early on. Their dinners were to be their time to get to know one another better. They were not to be work-related… especially now.

Amy's being transferred to Paris out of London had initially pleased Joe… until he had learned the real reason.

"Surely they don't blame you for Methos vanishing! You never even saw him!" Joe had sputtered once Amy had explained she'd been removed from the project.

"But they do. At least they think my complicity in the Nestor affair… and yours… is something they will no longer tolerate." Amy and Joe had helped channel information about Nestor to MacLeod and his friends so that they might have the information the immortals had needed to end Nestor's reign of terror.

Joe had taken a long drink of scotch at that point. He'd already been called on the carpet upon his return to Paris, and informed that his passwords had been revoked and that while the Council was not going to censure him for his failure to let them know what was happening… he was now "officially" retired.

"The matter is closed. It had already been decided after you were shot that MacLeod's file would be turned over to someone else. You will have full benefits Dawson… no one will take your livelihood away or stand in the way of your friendship with Duncan MacLeod. But… you will no longer have access to the current database." And that had been that.

Then… as time passed and Methos did not re-surface… the Watcher Council had looked into Amy's involvement.

"I can either go back to field duty… or work as an historian in the Paris library. Or… I can leave."

"Amy…" Joe had looked at her from somewhere between guilt and embarrassment. "I'm so sorry but…"

"Oh… they won't run me out… I won't let them. And field duty, as you well know, is not my thing. So… the Paris library seems the best fit." Amy had grinned. "Besides… I'll get to visit with you and listen to you play live whenever I wish."

So Joe had let it be. Once a week they would meet for dinner in some cafe, or Amy would come to the bar and sit at a table in the corner watching him play. Or perhaps they'd go to the theatre or to the museum or… anything fathers and adult daughters have done for thousands of years. Mainly they'd just tried to make these evenings something for just them… as a way to mend the breaches of their relationship… as a way to make up for all the years they'd never had.

Amy had called this afternoon and asked for Joe to meet her here at this restaurant. She wanted him to meet someone… someone important. Joe had gotten here early. In the two years since he and Amy had worked together on the Nestor affair… she'd never introduced him to anyone. Joe wanted to look his best.

A movement near the door showed Amy and a young man being ushered to Joe's table. Joe smiled and made to get up.

"No… stay seated," Amy said as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Burt… this is my father Joseph Dawson. Joe… this is Burt Meyers."

Joe nodded his greetings with a toothy smile. The Watchers had taken away his database… but not his memories. Joe knew exactly who Burt Meyers was… and how Amy had met him. "You own that nightclub over on _Rue Jardine_… the one called _Sanctuary_. Have you been leading Amy away from great jazz?" he teased.

"Uh… no sir," Burt suddenly looked a little nervous. "Actually… she seldom comes in… She doesn't really care for the music… says it's a little loud for her taste, but it's what the young people want."

"Relax, Burt," Amy laughed as he held a chair for her to sit. "My father is just teasing you. He knows I only like the blues." Amy winked at Joe with a warm smile.

Burt extended a hand and Joe noticed his strong grip. "Have a seat," Joe said and motioned for the man to sit. "The food's great here…" He motioned for the waiter.

As dinner progressed and the two men found a great deal to talk about as they were both running nightclubs… Amy smiled and ate silently. She'd meant for them to meet much sooner… but somehow she'd thought it might be better to take this slowly… carefully. After all, Joe would know that Burt was a former friend of immortals Nick Wolfe and Amanda… neither of whom had been seen by Watchers since the Nestor affair. Amy wanted to talk to Joe about Burt… but thought the best thing to do was to have him meet his fellow club owner… let them get to know one another… and then Amy and Joe could talk.

As coffee was served with dessert, Joe had the feeling that this dinner was not about what he hoped it might be. He'd noticed the warm glances and friendly ease between Burt and Amy… but he had a sinking feeling this was not about a "personal" relationship. Sadly he decided they were just friends. Too bad… he'd found himself rather hoping that Amy had found a fellow, that wedding bells might be in her future. Already thirty-five… Amy did not seem to be settling into much of a personal life. Having had a daughter… Joe had found himself hoping one day for grandchildren. But a Watcher's life is never easy, and Amy, like Joe himself, was increasingly married to her job. Trouble was… now Joe was more or less divorced from the Watchers… and Amy no longer worked on the Chronicle she most wanted to be on.

Both of them had been effectively pigeon-holed, their wings clipped. Evidently the new Council wanted more control over their operatives… and had made examples of those who even bent the rules. At least they no longer wanted to take the lives of those who broke the rules outright… as the two of them had done. The Council had decided that they need not emulate the immortals themselves by killing their own members. They at least had decided there was another way.

As dinner drew to a close… and the three left the restaurant, Joe stood waiting for a taxi as Burt and Amy said goodnight.

After Burt had left, Amy slipped an arm into Joe's. "Why don't we have a nightcap at your place."

"I had a feeling you might want one." Joe laughed. He'd read her perfectly.

At _Le Blues Bar_… René was just closing up when they arrived. Joe waved the bartender off the clock and settled into a chair at a table with Amy to find out just what she had in mind.

"I want to recruit him," Amy said.

"Why come to me about this. My word wouldn't mean much." Joe poured each of them brandy.

"I wanted your perceptions about him before I went to my supervisor."

"He's an ex-CIA agent… or some sort of special operations. He believes in what's right… but he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. Somehow I don't see him just watching," Joe said with a sip of his brandy.

Amy's shoulders sagged. "He knew Nick Wolfe. He knew Amanda. He's always wondering about them… what happened to them? Why I wanted to meet them that day he last saw them? Did I see them? What do I tell him?" Tears brimmed in his daughter's eyes.

"Tell me this… Why did you get back in touch with him after it was over?" Joe leaned forward as if by close proximity he could somehow elicit the truth.

"I didn't." 

Joe shook his head. "I don't understand."

"He found me. Two months after I went back to London… I walked out of a produce market and there he stood."

"He was stalking you?"

"No… he was curious. In fact he apologized… but… He'd heard nothing in two months and he wondered if I knew anything… so he… used his contacts to find me." Amy smiled. "We went to dinner… several times" Her face reddened a bit. "I really like him… but… if I can't tell him… if I can't explain what it is I do… how can we pursue a relationship."

Joe brightened. "Has he asked you to marry him?"

Amy nodded with a shy smile. "Several times. I keep putting him off. Finally he asked to meet you and I thought that maybe this might be a way I could get your thoughts on telling him the truth. He thinks I transferred to Paris to be with him."

"Amy… you can't put your life on hold. If you love him… marry him! Don't make the mistakes I made. Don't let the job become your life."

"Would you have given up the job… would you ever have given it up for a family?"

Joe sat back… thinking. Finally he nodded. "Yeah… there was a girl once… I'd have married her. I'd have given up everything I ever came to know about immortals for her." He chuckled at the irony of his having learned a few years ago that Ellie had been an immortal. Sometimes he thought about her and wondered just where she and Methos and the boy, Derrick, had vanished. That they were alive and well was all Mac had been able to tell him.

"Why Joe… you sound positively romantic!"

"Hell yes I'm a romantic! And damned proud to be one!"

"What happened to her… this girl from your past?" Amy inquired as she sipped her brandy.

Joe sighed as he fingered his drink. "She married someone else and lived happily ever after… at least I hope so." Joe took an abrupt swig. "Besides… if I'd married her… I wouldn't have you." Joe reached out to clasp Amy's hand. "Now then… if you love this guy Amy… say yes. Then talk to your supervisor. If the council say no to telling him… Well, then you make the decision to stay and keep the secret or to leave and keep the secret. But maybe they would like someone with his knowledge and contacts… someone who has already been touched by the immortals' world. Someone who may already be curious and have questions that only they can answer. Take a leap of faith Amy. Trust your heart!"

Amy nodded with a warm smile. "Trust… Tell me Joe… why does that put fear in my heart? Why do I worry about telling Burt… or about telling the Council."

***

****

Chicago, August 2005

Gregor "Greg" Powers chuckled at Johnny Paxton's joke and took a long swig of his beer. Hanging out with other medical students as he continued his slow and painstaking journey to build his resume' and resume his life as a doctor and healer could sometimes be an utter joy. Young people today had a real gift for seeing the absurdities of life and pointing out the shortcomings of those around them with a real zest and appreciation.

Greg sometimes wondered how it was he had so thought the world was descending into darkness a few years ago. How it was that he had been unable to see the beauty of life or the joy of living? He let out a long breath and a chuckle as he considered his old friend Duncan MacLeod… and how closely Greg had come to losing his head and his life at the hands of his old friend. How much he came to realize in that instant before Duncan's _katana_ descended to Greg's neck… just how much he still wanted to live.

And living was what he was about these days! First he'd arranged to get himself admitted to medical school here in Chicago… that had been the easy part. The hard part had been in realizing how much medicine had moved beyond the days when he had practiced… and how hard he'd have to work to catch up. Greg smiled inwardly. Once he'd caught up… once he'd realized what he needed to do and how to do it… the hard part had been in not distinguishing himself too much. It was one thing to do well enough to make the grade and the cut… it was another to garner too much attention by over-achievement.

And in his downtime… he still had his photography. In fact… that was why he was ostensibly here tonight. He was several years ahead of this group, already a resident at Chicago Memorial, but he supposedly supplemented his meagre income by taking photography assignments. John was throwing a bachelor party for a friend and had asked Dr. Powers to memorialize the evening for them. Greg had agreed and had truly enjoyed himself.

"Now," he said setting his unfinished beer on the bar. "I have to be going." To the chorus of nay-sayers he shook his head. "No guys… really… I have rounds at seven a.m. with Dr. "Kill'em" Prescott," he said using the students' nickname for the doctor whose harsh treatment of interns and residents alike was legendary. "I best be on my way." He waved at them as he donned his long black leather coat and placed the bag with his photography equipment in it on his shoulder. "See ya!" and he left the bar.

The heat and humidity of the July night made his coat seem ridiculous. But Greg knew it was a necessary part of his wardrobe. A means by which to hide his sword from the eyes of mortals and keep it close at hand. In the hospital environment… he had to trust to other means… but he adjusted.

He was just unlocking his car when he felt the other.

Greg looked around… his glance falling on a tall figure whose sword was already gleaming in the streetlights. 

Greg backed up and then tossed his bag of equipment onto the hood of his car as he did so. "Hey man… we don't have to do this. We can pass by and meet another time."

"Not likely," the other said evenly.

By this time, Greg had his sword in his hands and was shrugging out of his heavy coat as he backed into a darkened alley. "Greg Powers," he offered by way of introduction.

"I know who you are," the other hissed as he advanced, likewise shrugging off his own long coat.

"Who are you?" Greg's eyes darted over the alley as he judged what was here that might help him and what might hinder him in the fight to come. If he could get this immortal to talk to him… maybe this fight didn't have to happen.

"Your death!" the other replied and lunged as Greg shifted and deflected the blow before it landed. Twice more their swords met as they traded strokes… then the other backed up. "You seem to have recovered your desire to live. Good… that makes this all the more sweet."

"Do I know you?" Greg's breathing was labored as he continued to circle… let the other think he was not ready… too tired to continue. It was a tactic he'd once learned from MacLeod. He flexed his sword and shifted it in his hand.

"Oh… we've never met… but I have heard of you. Nihilist! Destroyer of young men!"

Greg paused… confused. "I'm a resident at a local hospital. I don't know what you mean."

"Now… but a dozen years ago you were someone else. And you toyed with mortals as if they were yours to do with as you please."

Greg nodded and licked his lips. "It was a phase I went through… tired of living… tired of merely continuing. I've moved on from that."

"Too bad Gary couldn't move on." The other's face was hidden in shadow.

"Gary?" Suddenly Greg had an inkling of what this might be about. "Gary Weller."

"Friend of mine. I grew up with him. After that motorcycle accident he was crippled for life… spinal cord injury. Do you know about spinal cord injuries _doctor_?" he hissed. "Gary's spent twelve years in a wheelchair."

Greg nodded and glanced around once more noting the pile of lumber and crates to his left. "That was an accident."

"Accident… oh yeah… I believed that right up until the moment I died and was reborn. I decided to find you. Imagine my surprise to discover you were like me… Condemned to eternal life."

Greg lunged out attempting to draw his opponent in and circle around him so that the alley exit would be to his back instead of his opponent's. That way… he'd have an avenue of escape. It almost worked… he did manage to land a solid blow to the man's arm. The man flinched and grabbed his arm in pain but backed away… still preventing Greg's escape.

"I took care of his medical bills… I was cleared by the inquest," Greg spit out. "I truly didn't mean for him to be injured."

"But he admired your devil-may-care attitude. He wanted to be as fearless as you were. But you knew something he didn't. You… couldn't… be… hurt." The other lunged in once more… his arm evidently healed and slammed blow after blow on Greg's swordarm.

Greg managed to duck and turn… lashing out with his sword to pierce the other's back. His opponent grabbed his back, dropped his sword and fell to his knees.

Greg stood over him with his sword raised. "We still don't have to continue. Leave me alone and I will let you live."

"If you leave me to walk away… I will come for you again and again. It is the way we live. It is the way we die."

Greg nodded sadly. "Then so be it." He sliced down and to one side feeling that momentary hesitation as his sword passed across his opponent's neck. The head fell to one side and the body collapsed. Greg backed up sadly and then stood ramrod straight to receive the quickening of… _Michael Grant_… so young… so very young… still in his first life… his kills could be numbered on a single hand. His life… so very short and unremarkable. His immortality focused on one thing… kill Greg Powers… who had crippled his friend.

Lightning flashed through the alley and out into the street. Streetlights exploded. Car alarms sounded. The pile of wood to Greg's left caught fire. Greg held his arms across his chest and sagged onto his knees sobbing. It was all so useless! What was the purpose of living forever if immortals have to kill one another in order to survive? He leaned forward so that his hands supported him on the pavement and turned up his head to scream his frustration into the darkness.

At the alley's entrance he heard the sound of footsteps. Greg Powers leaned back on his knees and stared at the approaching figure. He tried to rise as he clutched futilely at his sword. Something hit him… and darkness took him.


	4. Chapter 3

****

Chapter 3

__

Ste. Genevieve, September, 2006

Amanda motioned to Sister Luke, "… and sign here." She flipped a page, "… and here. That should do it!"

Sister Luke, once known as Lucia Cortez during the ninety-six years of her long pre-immortal life smiled and shook her head. "Are you certain I don't have to sign in blood Amanda?"

Amanda gave her friend an amused expression, smirking and letting a small and most unladylike snort sound in her lovely throat. One lock of Amanda's short dark hair fell over her eyes and she casually placed it once more behind her right ear. "No blood this time Luke… but maybe I can arrange a Faustian deal for you the next time." Amanda winked. In the three years she had been here… she and the elderly immortal had become fast friends.

"No… But I have noticed that since you began handling our financial affairs here… we seem to have quite a bit more money to operate."

"Well…" Amanda laughed, "whoever set up the accounts for this place did so centuries ago and while very good… they don't allow for modern business management to take advantage of legal loopholes."

Luke shook her head. "Well… my friend… we are supposed to be a convent… we are not supposed to be a money-making business."

"So," Amanda smirked and then continued lightly, "Now you are a money-making convent! Your wine is sold in all the best shops and restaurants in France!" She gathered up the forms, placing them in a folder as she tapped it against the desk. "I haven't broken any laws."

"Maybe not… but why do I still worry about letting a thief handle our finances. I keep remembering that old fable about hiring a fox to guard the hen-house."

"Reformed thief!" Amanda insisted, "Besides… I have always made it a rule never to steal from friends… Well… almost never to steal from friends." Amanda winked. 

As Sister Luke laughed, Amanda took her leave. She hoped to be leaving here soon. It was time she moved on with her life, and she'd done all she could for the immortals here. She'd taught the child immortals survival techniques, languages, computers, and swordsmanship appropriate to their size. The mortal nuns, who were really companions and guardians of the children if they needed to leave _Ste. Genevieve_ and wished to have a traveling companion… she had left to Sister Luke. The elderly woman had become prioress here after the unfortunate death of her predecessor, Marie-France, an immortal woman who had been closer to Amanda's age, than to Luke's.

Thoughts of Marie-France, a woman she'd barely met, caused Amanda to think of Nick Wolfe and his sacrifice. A sacrifice which had allowed their group of immortals to contain for a while the ancient dark quickening of Nestor… an immortal so depraved, that none of them had dared to kill him… take his head. Nestor had raped and brutalized Marie-France and had tortured Nick, crippling him permanently by removing body parts one by one. Marie-France had managed to give Nick her quickening in a rare moment they'd been alone. It was that act that had caused Nestor's unrestrained torture of Nick. But that torture had been his eventual undoing. Instead of begging for death from the others, Nick had offered to allow Nestor to be trapped within his crippled body.

Amanda wandered through the small convent garden to observe Nick sitting in a chair, a blanket over his lap. At his side was the child immortal Valeraine; Amanda could hear the girl's voice as she read to Nick in Russian.

Amanda smiled. Valeraine was no real child… except physically. She was eight hundred years old and had come to grips with her size and relative youthful appearance centuries ago. She and Marie-France had been great friends. Together they had managed to keep this place operating for centuries. Marie-France had run the convent… and Valeraine the school.

Now… Valeraine's only interest was in taking care of Nick… and by some extension perhaps, her dead friend. She was one of the few people who could manage the crippled and blinded Nick. If other immortals came near… the part of him that was Nestor tried to force their hand to kill him and take his evil into themselves. If any of the mortal women came too near… the wreck that was left of Nick Wolfe and Nestor made obscene movements as if attempting to rape them… or violate them somehow.

It did not matter that Nick had neither hands, nor feet, nor eyes, nor tongue, nor anyway to complete the acts he attempted. The evil was that even after three years… the thing inside Nick still tried. But alone with Valeraine, who would pay no attention to Nestor within… only Nick responded to her reading… grunting and swinging about the portion of the one arm he had. He'd wave and gesture with the fingerless hand… and nod his head… up and down for yes, back and forth for no.

Valeraine had asked for a wheelchair to move him about the garden more easily… but Amanda and Sister Luke had said no. They wanted Nick completely dependent on others. They would care for him. They would feed him and wash him. They would bring him to services in the chapel and set him in the garden on warm days. But he was not to have any means of getting around on his own.

It was a good thing they'd declined. One night, Nick had been found crawling blindly through the courtyard, attempting to get to the children's quarters. Ursa, the simple-minded giant immortal who also lived here, had gathered the ex-cop into his burly bear-like arms and had carried him back to his room and to his bed. After that… Amanda had instructed restraints were to be used at night. Even Valeraine had sadly agreed to that.

Amanda took a deep breath and slowly approached, almost hating to disturb the garden's occupants.

Nick's head lolled to one side and he sniffed the air. The ruin of his toothless and tongueless mouth worked open and shut. A raucous and unformed cry emanated from him. 

Valeraine immediately ceased her reading and leaped up. One tiny hand on either side of Nick's face… she spoke his name calmly… until at last he seemed to focus on her and remain still.

Nick Wolfe had been a powerful man… broad-shouldered, a former boxer, football player… now he was a shell of what he once had been. Amanda's heart broke to see him this way.

Valeraine looked up at her solemnly. "What do you want, Amanda… Your presence here always upsets him."

"Just checking on how you two are doing." Amanda said lightly… hoping she did not betray her own sadness at what had become of the young man she'd once hoped to have tutored and trained in the immortal life.

"We are fine. We are slowly working our way through the convent library. When we finish… we shall begin again. Today we are reading Dostoevsky's **_Crime and Punishment_**."

"In the original Russian?"

"Yes." Valeraine glared at her as she tossed her blond braids behind her and settled once more into her chair near Nick.

"Does Nick even speak Russian?"

"I translate… I read a passage and then I translate." Valeraine shrugged as if she thought that was obvious.

Nick was leaning forward in his chair attempting to reach Amanda. She stepped back.

As if he knew he made her uncomfortable… Nick began cackling in a laugh that sounded so much like Nestor's that Amanda felt chills go up and down her spine. He wanted to possess her. And if he ever found a way… he would.

Once more Valeraine called his name. Finally Nick leaned back in his chair, his shoulders shaking in obvious despair. Amanda had the feeling that if he could cry… her friend would be weeping now at what he had become.

Amanda saw the silent plea in Valeraine's young face and nodded. Silently, Amanda left the garden. From nearby she could hear Ursa begin to voice his centuries old chants to a nearby wall. The calm life, the care, the music, the sounds of children's laughter and soft voices… Amanda and Duncan had both hoped these things would help Nick regain his control over the darkness of Nestor as Duncan had managed to overcome his own dark quickening years ago.

Methos had also felt that time might be the deciding factor. They couldn't give him a sword and expect him to fight himself in a sacred pool… Nick would have to find another way to overcome the darkness and become himself once more. Then and only then… might someone be allowed to end his life, if that was what he truly desired. Until then, Nick Wolfe would remain as he was… poised between surrendering totally to the darkness that was Nestor and the emptiness of the life left to him.

But there were moments when he was alone with Valeraine, that the girl said he moved or seemed to be Marie-France… as if the calm light of her quickening had given Nick a buffer against Nestor's eternal darkness and helped him to survive at all. But Amanda had never seen this aspect in Nick… and wondered if Valeraine were speaking only from wishful thinking.

Meanwhile, she made certain that none of the children came too close… especially Kenny!

Too often Amanda had seen the boy's eyes glaze over whenever he watched Nick. Amanda recalled Nestor's words to Kenny shortly before he died. That he could make it possible for Kenny to have those things he could never otherwise have… and one of those was Amanda. Kenny had finally left here recently… but Amanda worried he might come back. Part of the reason she was still here was her fear that if Kenny returned… he might try for Nick's head… and with it… Nestor would have a new pawn and be free once more! Amanda shivered in the early summer heat. Despite the warmth… she was suddenly very cold.

****

SanFrancisco, October 2006

Alex Raven was fuming. Bad enough to have a blowout on her bike… but now it was raining. Not a nice warm summer shower… but a cold blowing one that blew from the west… from the ocean with fury. In the steady downpour she struggled to patch the tire so that she could get both it and her to a garage for a more permanent fix and a hot cup of coffee.

She glanced up at the car, which pulled over on the shoulder. Shielding her eyes from the bright headlights, she struggled to see who was there. Not an immortal… at least not one she could sense. Alex wiped her hands on her leather pants and stood.

"Hello… Who's there please?" She waited… her sword in its sheath on the bike within easy reach.

No one exited the car. It continued to idle and the wipers continued to push the downpour one way and another over the windshield.

Alex backed up. She leaned over her bike… her hand already on the hilt of her sword. She flinched at the _thud_ hitting her side and stared down in amazement at the growing bloom of red across her chest.

"Bastard!" she grimaced as she felt the hilt slip from her hands. She staggered, and then collapsed against her bike and on to the wet pavement.


	5. Chapter 4

****

Chapter 4

Paris, April 2007

Alisaunne finished brushing her long dark curly hair back from her face and secured it with a clip. The style was best for her low forehead, wide-set gray eyes, and high cheekbones. She turned her head about as she gazed into the mirror to assess what she saw. A confident and rather impetuous young woman stared back at her with just the smallest hint of amusement playing across her lips. She arched her eyebrows at the reflection of Ian Daffyd lounging on their bed… thumbing through a book.

Alisaunne sobered. It was at moments like this… when she could see both her reflection and his that she was struck by how young he still looked. She had known him for four years, having met him when her erstwhile guardian Duncan MacLeod had hidden her at a strange convent in eastern France. Ian had been the one bright spot of that entire insane affair. To Alisaunne, Ian had been the only thing that had been truly real. With his help, her rape at the hands of the madman the others had called Nestor had begun to fade over the years until it was only something she knew had happened… but no longer clearly recalled. That was… Ian and Duncan had both told her… for the best.

Ian was like her… someone who healed quickly… a secret her late uncle, Jacques de Pres had bid her tell no one… and she hadn't until she had seen Ian's severed arm heal as if he had never been injured. Ian's and Duncan's friends had then finally destroyed Nestor… a man who wouldn't die… but could be stopped. It had taken all of them… their combined effort to stop him. And it had also taken Alisaunne and her will to survive that had made it possible.

"He's dead and will never bother you again," Duncan had assured her afterwards as he'd returned her to Paris and to her own private school. When she'd returned to _Academie de Sacré Coeur_ it was to the knowledge that not just her fencing instructor had died… but also three of the nuns she had known most of her life… and one of the other girls… Marie… another senior girl who had resembled her a bit. Alisaunne had mourned the loss of those she'd known… and then with Ian's help… moved on to life at the _université_. Duncan MacLeod had become her official guardian following the deaths of her _avocat_ and his legal staff. She knew no one else… and he had assured her it would have been her uncle's wish.

"It seems I knew your uncle after all. He once asked me to look after you. I have nothing in writing, of course, but if you wish… I can manage your affairs and be a friend."

Alisaunne had agreed. Her survival during that dark period had been due to her chance meeting with the handsome Scotsman and his friend… the mysterious Dr. Pierson. At least… Alisaunne thought that was his name. She had never seen him again after that last night… nor had Duncan mentioned him in the intervening years. Ian had just simply shrugged and said, "The doctor is a secretive man."

Ian glanced up at her with that solemn expression he so often had these days… as if their time together was something that was fleeting and would soon be over. That he adored her, Alisaunne had no doubt. Whenever they made love… his kisses were always soft and his caress gentle… as if he feared she would recall the other's touch. If she did… Alisaunne brushed the memory away and focused on Ian, trying to drown herself in his love for her.

"You really should come with me, you know!" Alisaunne teased Ian. "You were on the fencing team as well."

Ian shook his head. "Sorry my love but college drinking parties… even to celebrate your fine graduation… are not my thing. I'd be a bit out of place there."

"Why, because you're not graduating? Or because you are far too serious to drink with us?" Alisaunne tossed a small pillow from a chair at him. He caught it easily with his right hand and then slowly turned his arm in an effort to throw it back. His arm had healed… but it was still… even after four years… not quite as fast nor as limber as it once had been… as if the sword cut he had taken trying to defend her had never truly healed. He'd been forced to hold his arm as he'd watched Nestor's attack on her. Helpless to prevent it… Alisaunne knew Ian still blamed himself for that sometimes. He'd attended classes here with her… he'd even been on the fencing team for a while… as skilled with his left hand as many of the others ever hoped to be with their right… but he'd not been pleased with his efforts. "I'm still too slow and too weak! Even with my left hand," he'd said one night recently.

"Why does it matter how fast or how strong you are? It's not as if you'd ever really need to use a sword again," Alisaunne had lain next to him in his embrace, one of her hands teasing up and down his bare chest.

She'd been startled at his response. He'd thrust her away and climbed out of their bed to stand staring out at the Paris skyline with a haunted expression on his face.

"Talk to me Ian," she'd begged. But he'd said nothing.

Eventually he'd returned to bed… but since that night… Alisaunne felt that Ian Daffyd was withdrawing from her. As if once her studies here ended… he would vanish into the night leaving her alone with her memories.

"Come with me!" Alisaunne begged once more. "I don't care what the others say… or what they think. I love you!"

Ian smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I fear Alisaunne des Pres… I would not be a good drinking companion. Besides… I look far too young to enter a bar."

Biting her lip, Alisaunne had swiftly grabbed her jacket as she left without a word. His looks were one of the problems between them… and she knew it.

In the four years she had known him… he had not seemed to change. He was still the charming boy with the lilting Welsh accent. Freckles peppered his tanned skin and that shock of white hair above those clear blue eyes still amazed her. But he did not look to be in his early twenties as she knew he must be. He still looked to be seventeen… as he had when they'd met.

She'd mentioned it to Duncan the last time she'd seen him. After a long and very thoughtful pause, Duncan had smiled, "Perhaps he has great genes!" And that had been that. Alisaunne felt both men were keeping something from her. Something that had to do with Nestor and their reasons for dealing with the madman, instead of letting the police do it. Something to do with why she and Ian healed. Something to do with why Nestor had stalked her.

By this time Alisaunne had reached the street. Glancing both ways… she crossed the street hurriedly and headed to the college bar to meet her friends. With or without Ian… she was determined to have a great time tonight.

From the window of their rooms, Ian watched her go. It had taken every bit of resolve he'd possessed not to go with her. He needed to let her go… not just tonight… but for all time… or at least for the remainder of her mortal life. If he stayed much longer… he might be tempted to freeze her in the moment… and that… MacLeod had reminded him would be wrong.

"No matter what… you have to let fate decide when she is to die and if she becomes immortal. Don't make the decision for her. Trust me on this… she will not thank you." MacLeod had glared darkly into his Scotch as he had said this… as if he had once done just such a thing to someone he'd cared for and that someone had never forgiven him. He and Ian had been hanging out on MacLeod's barge one night… watching the river traffic, drinking scotch, and discussing Alisaunne and their own immortal lives.

MacLeod was twice his age… Ian was a mere two centuries old and had never been too much into the game nor had that much skill. He'd found the convent at _Ste. Genevieve_ long ago… and had been happy to remain there. Many of the "lambs" as they were called had lived there over the years. They were the child immortals who could not survive in the outer world… nor survive long in the game… but who one by one usually left to try their hand. Ian had lost many friends over the time he had been there. He had known by leaving to help protect Alisaunne he'd likely die. That he hadn't… and that she loved him, had been gifts. 

For his part, MacLeod had urged him to remain near the girl. "She trusts you… you can pass as a student there and keep a close watch on her. I can't. I can teach a class occasionally… but I can't be with her to watch over her."

But with graduation almost here… it was time for Ian Daffyd to move on to another life. Some full-grown immortals could manage ten years in a life before moving on… but a young one such as he was physically… had perhaps five years before the lack of aging was too apparent. At least he'd had this long. 

MacLeod had suggested Ian tell Alisaunne about immortals. Ian had shaken his head. "Won't work. She thinks the two of us are alike. If she learns I'm immortal… she'll assume she is, too."

"Well," MacLeod had grinned half in jest, "she is."

"But not yet. Who knows what she might do when she found out? If she killed herself to stop her aging, she might not come back. You know that."

MacLeod had nodded. "Telling pre-immortals is always a dicey thing," MacLeod had agreed, regret tingeing his voice. "It is the shock of their death that triggers their immortality. If they know ahead of time… it is not always a shock."

So Ian had said nothing. Soon he would leave. Soon Alisaunne would face a mortal life without him.

He turned from the window to settle once more on their bed to read. "_It would be_," he thought, "_a very long evening._"

****

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, July 2007

The immortal Katherine was in the fight of her life. Already she worried about her husband Nick, shot down even as she fought the immortal known as Diego de Silva. de Silva was an impressive swordsman and definitely in a class above Katherine… as impressive as her own skills were. And her mind was not on the fight… as de Silva had evidently planned when he'd shot Nick.

As they circled, the blades sparking from the force of their blows at one another, Katherine could see Nick moving on the ground, but his moves were half-hearted… weak. She needed to finish this and get to him. With a greater sense of urgency… she focused on her opponent and on ending this fight.

Drawing from her centuries of experience in combat against larger, stronger opponents, Katherine feinted to her left as she turned and slammed her sword sharply into de Silva's momentarily unguarded right. The blade cut deeply into his swordarm… drawing first blood.

de Silva stumbled, but quickly recovered as he switched the sword from his right arm to his left… but in that moment of switching… Katherine struck as she continued her turn behind him. Swiftly she forced her blade deeply into de Silva's back and then withdrew it as he fell to his knees. She raised her blade for the final blow… but her eyes fell on Nick. He needed her help now… or he might not survive. A quickening… would delay her ability to help him.

Her mind made up; Katherine skewered de Silva through the back once more and forced him to the ground where she twisted her blade so that he would be unable to rise for a few moments. He jerked about several times and then was still… and quite dead.

Katherine crawled to Nick's side to check his wound. 

"Not so bad," he croaked at her. "Must have had cop-killers in his gun." The bullets had passed through his _kevlar_. Katherine ripped away the fastenings to tear the vest open. Her eyes widened. Three gounshots to the chest… Nick was bleeding badly.

"Don't move," she whispered and tore at her own sleeves to find something to staunch the bleeding. "Stay with me Nick… stay with me."

She was rather surprised when a blade erupted from her chest. She stared at it without comprehension as she lost consciousness.

Nick felt his immortal lover collapse upon him. Struggling to open his eyes he heard a voice say sneeringly, "Don't need you, sorry," as the blade passed further through Katherine and into his already bleeding chest where it turned and shifted. He knew nothing more and breathed his last.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Scotland, October, 2007

Fourteen-year old Derrick pulled off his leather gloves, slapping them against his jeaned leg to shake off the dust. He grinned as he watched the horses prance and pace about the corral. Their high spirits often mirrored his feelings.

The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the valley. It was still warm here this time of year… not as warm as a desert climate… but it didn't matter. In the distance he could hear the voices and laughter of the laborers Methos had hired to help with the harvest. The ancient immortal was out in the fields working with them.

Derrick grinned. There were times he wondered what life in the outside world was like. He'd often find himself hanging around the day laborers… listening to their comments and talk of politics and life in general… But mostly… the boy had felt this was a special time… one he owed the immortal couple… one that must not be interrupted by his desire to be once more a part of the world. Ellie had once told him he would leave her… and Derrick knew the day was coming. But not today!

He backed away from the corral fence and taking long paces with his lanky and still growing long legs… crossed the courtyard and entered the small farmhouse.

He'd heard music from outside and knew Ellie was playing the guitar again. That was the latest of her new skills. "I always wanted to learn," she'd murmured when Methos had given it to her last Christmas. He'd rolled his eyes teasingly. "Do tell!" he'd smirked. But then he'd kissed her… or she'd kissed him as if whatever memory they shared was for them alone.

Derrick had never tried to interfere in the couple's relationship… being certain to always pull back and go into another room if necessary. They needed time together even more than they needed to raise him… Derrick instinctively knew this… knew that those, whose memories he carried, insisted on it. As yet… neither Methos nor Ellie knew of Derrick's awareness of those memories… nor of his understanding of his own latent immortality.

He stuffed the gloves into a back pocket and poured himself some lemonade from a crockery pitcher sitting on the table. With one large hand he stuffed some cookies into his mouth… making certain he didn't grimace at their tastelessness. Ellie was so proud she hadn't burned this batch. Derrick leaned back against the table and watched his "sister" struggle with the chords. His inner memories recognized the music as some seventeenth century piece of Baroque church music. Outwardly he watched her mouth the old words as she strummed and haltingly changed chords.

"Not your usual choice of music," he teased.

Ellie glanced up with a sad smile. "Oh… just something that came to mind earlier… I can hear it in my head as fresh as the first time I ever heard it… but I can't quite get the hang of it… Give me time Derrick… I'll figure it out." She sighed and then set the guitar down. Stretching slightly, she rose… so tiny she seemed to him now. Had she always been so small? Or had he just grown so tall in the last two years that his "big" sister seemed anything but. Her dark hair now flowed in ripples down her back… as if being in this place where she could just be herself… as she had once been… she no longer worried about changing her hair and her appearance to keep from being spotted. She really did seem so very happy here. Happier than any of Derrick's old memories had ever seen her.

He finished his lemonade, carefully setting the glass into the soapy water in the sink and wiping the cookie crumbs from his mouth. With a teasing grin the boy swept the tiny immortal into his arms and began to dance about the kitchen. Soon both were laughing as they turned and twisted… hopped and slid in the old dance steps that he had always known… even before that first time she'd ever danced with him so long ago. He laughed… her green eyes met his blue ones in laughter and then… Ellie's face seemed to freeze in a question and she pulled back… still staring into his eyes.

Swiftly Derrick reached behind her and grabbed some additional cookies… breaking the spell of the moment as he mumbled something about heading back to the barn. As he walked out the door, he mentally kicked himself for allowing some reality of who he had been to show through so that Ellie had seen it. He was usually more careful than that.

Derrick was in the barn mucking out the stalls when he noticed Methos enter. The old one looked at the boy solemnly… as if trying to assess what was going on in Derrick's mind. He'd evidently felt something of Ellie's sadness and come to check it out.

"What happened?"

Derrick continued with his chores and simply said with a shrug, "What do you mean?"

"Eleanor is crying."

Derrick paused only a moment in his shoveling before continuing on. "I don't know, Adam. We were dancing and she just seemed to suddenly be sad."

Methos came closer, reaching out to grasp the shovel. He pulled it from Derrick's hands, forcing the boy to look at him. "What did you say to her?"

Derrick shrugged. "Nothing." He grabbed the shovel back to resume.

Methos pushed the boy against the stall slightly… his grey eyes looking for all the world like storm clouds ready to erupt in thunder and lightning. "You can talk to me Derrick. You would tell me if you were having any more strange dreams or thoughts… wouldn't you?" Unlike his eyes, Methos' voice was gentle with an understanding tone.

Derrick swallowed. "Yes sir."

"If you know anything… if you think you know anything… you need to tell me. I won't let her be hurt! But I need to know! Now… do you have something to tell me?"

Derrick shook his head. "No, sir!"

Methos' face seemed to drop. He closed his eyes as if struggling with what to say.

Derrick waited… thinking. "_Tell me your name… and then I can start to tell you what I know… but you have to trust me old friend… before I can trust you_." He blinked at the voice he heard so clearly inside his mind. They were only an old memory… something the Old One had once said to Methos… long ago. Derrick said nothing aloud.

Methos took a deep breath and smiled at Derrick… nodding slightly. "Good lad! Together… you and I… we'll keep her safe." The immortal dropped his hands from Derrick's arms and left the barn… heading for the house.

Derrick watched him go… then turned back to his shoveling. He still had straw to spread and the horses to bring in and bed down for the night… and their feed. He'd take it slow… that would give the couple time alone.

"_You have to be careful_," he thought. "_It's not time, yet! It's not time._"

The interior voice seemed to agree. With that agreement… Derrick focused on the task at hand.

Methos closed the front door behind him as he watched Eleanor staring into the flames of the fire. As she thoughtfully rubbed her arms with her hands… Methos felt her sadness. In the past few years the two of them had learned to be aware of one another… but not always in one another's thoughts. It gave them each a sense of privacy… a sense of self.

The immortal crossed the main room to touch her shoulder lightly with one gentle caress of his hand and bent to kiss her black hair. "What happened… exactly?" He'd felt her despair and tears while in the field and had seen the boy exit the house hurriedly.

"We were just dancing… as we've always danced… and then… I looked in his eyes… For one moment… it was Darius who looked at me… and I think Derrick knew that I knew… that I saw. I just stumbled." There was a sadness in her voice that betrayed how much she had cared for the priest. Methos had come to accept that part of her life long ago… accept that he was not the only man she had ever truly loved.

"He said much the same. I still think he knows more than what he's telling us." Methos was torn between wanting to protect the boy… and wanting to confront the elusive memories that with each passing day seemed more and more a part of Derrick.

"You didn't tell him anything?" Eleanor turned to regard him fearfully. "If he should suspect… if he were to know… we might lose him… he might not…" Her voice broke.

"No… but I think he suspects anyway." Methos held her close… feeling the wall dissolve as he attempted to fill her with his reassurance and love. How was it he had been so afraid of this for so long… fearful of caring for anyone so much that he'd truly opened himself and all he was to another. Oh… true… it was to the doomed Alexa Bond he'd first been able to finally open his heart… and her death had devastated him as none of the deaths of his other wives ever had. His love for Alexa had helped make this union with Eleanor possible. "All we can do is watch out for Derrick and keep him safe, until… well until whatever happens… happens."

"You don't need to worry… you know."

Methos heard the tease in her voice. "Worry about what?"

"About my leaving you. I won't… not this time… not as long as you want me here." Eleanor's green eyes glittered a bit greener as Methos cupped her face between his hands with a smile.

He laughed and bent to kiss her murmuring, "And if I always want you in my life?"

"Well… then here I am."

Her earlier sadness had evaporated… and Methos felt only her joy in his presence.

****

Hong Kong, December 2007

Kiem Sun watched the glow of fireworks in the night sky for several moments before returning to his meditation. Once more he moved… utilizing all the skill he had once had in the flowing beauty of the movements. The Gathering was here, his old friend MacLeod had told him years ago. Yet nothing seemed to have changed. Perhaps MacLeod was wrong… perhaps he, Kiem Sun, might still have the chance to perfect the herbal potion from the _kwanlo_ root, but he somehow doubted it. No… he continued to dwell on holy ground for the time being. He needed to regain all his skills so that he could once more face the immortal battles that surely awaited him.

The perfect dance of the ancient means of battle flowed through Kiem Sun like water and helped him move ever more quickly. "Soon," he thought, "Soon I shall be ready. Soon I shall challenge someone… someone still young and not so learned… Soon it will be time to re-join the game."

He froze and looked up at the young disciple who entered the monastery gardens. Quietly, once more adjusting his monk's robes about him, Kiem Sun bowed to the disciple as the other likewise bowed to him.

"Master, one has come to the gates asking admission."

"What sort of man?" Kiem asked.

"A westerner by his look… perhaps English. He seeks sanctuary."

Kiem nodded and turned away. In his guise as one of the monks here, it was his job to grant sanctuary to weary mortals. And if this person were immortal? Well they were on holy ground… and perhaps, this immortal might be the challenge he sought to make his presence known once more in the game.

As the disciple padded softly away, Kiem concentrated once more on his disciplines and tuned out the sound of firecrackers and fireworks. Let the mortals celebrate… he had other things to occupy himself. Crossing to a stone bench and table when he finished, he poured a small cup of tea and held it reverently in his hands. He still had a long way to go to recapture his true abilities… and even further to be able to take on MacLeod if it came to it… but he rather hoped it would not… At least not any time soon.

At the sound of footsteps on the gravel path he glanced up… and the world exploded in a red haze.


	7. Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

Paris, February 2008

The cold icy rain pelted the windows of her room. Alisaunne groaned at the thought of walking home without benefit of umbrella. She'd worn her heavy woolen coat today because of the temperature… and had not grabbed the umbrella… thinking that it would be snow that would fall. She had always loved the snow!

Rubbing her cold fingers in the momentary chill, she concentrated on the essay before her. Although most of her graduate level es were hands-on work… this one was a seemingly unending set of essays and essay tests as if this professor wished to learn all that she knew on the subject of the Gallic Campaigns of Caesar. Trouble was… Alisaunne knew quite a bit… Thus her essays often seemed to take forever to write.

Glancing up at the clock… she noted there was only a minute or so left in the period. Swiftly she continued to read over her essay… attempting to catch what errors she could.

"Time!" snapped Professor Longchamps. His pince-nez sat on the base of his aquiline nose. On his nearly bald head… the white wisps of his remaining hair seemed unkempt and wild about his florid round face. Holding his chubby hands behind his back… he rose on his toes and then backed down over and over as his noisily turned in their essays.

Regretfully… and wishing she'd had five more minutes to finish proofing her paper… Alisaunne passed hers up.

Once he'd collected the papers… Longchamps dismissed them all with a curt nod.

"Honestly!" Friedrich said as he and Alisaunne walked out together, "I think that man was born old and has no memory of what it was like to be young." He laughed… and Alisaunne laughed with him… although in truth… she found the old man endearing.

"Perhaps he was there… in the Gallic Wars," Solange added, catching up to slip her arm proprietarily into Friedrich's.

Alisaunne laughed at the idea. "Oh… that would make him how old? What… about two thousand? Can you imagine?"

The three of them laughed companionably as they tripped down the wide staircase among the other students.

"_Oui_…" Friederich snorted. "He looks as if he could be so old!"

Once more the three friends laughed at the shared image of a two-thousand year old man calmly teaching history… and the utter foolishness of the image.

Alisaunne sobered as she saw Ian waiting for her at the doors to the building. Her umbrella was in his hands. They'd had quite a row last night and he'd walked out… leaving her alone.

Squaring her shoulders, she hesitantly walked toward him. Beside her, Friedrich and Solange had fallen silent.

"I noticed you'd left this behind… and that with this weather… you might need it." Ian held the umbrella out to her.

Alisaunne gritted her teeth and shifted her weight… not certain she trusted her voice or her words… not wanting to say anything else that might hurt him as she'd evidently hurt him last night.

Friedrich and Solange cleared their throats and then made excuses as they moved off. Her friends had become increasingly aware of Ian's and her contentious relationship. Obviously they wished to give them space to say whatever they needed to say.

Alisaunne finally took the offered umbrella. "Thanks," she managed. "Nice of you to bring it." It was too much… Her tone betrayed how angry with him she still was. She bit her tongue. Why wouldn't he tell her whatever it was he was keeping a secret?

"I was moving my things out… when I saw it… I didn't want you to catch your death of cold."

Alisaunne heard only sincerity in Ian's voice… sincerity and care. "I'm sorry… the essay test was… trying," she finally managed.

Ian nodded. "And my leaving last night didn't help. Alisaunne…" he paused, "I don't want there to be hard feelings. I still care for you… but I have to go… It's time."

"Why? Why is it time? Explain things to me!" Around her several passing students stared… then looked hurriedly away.

"You must live your life. You can't always be hanging on to the likes of me. I'm only a simple boy with simple wants and desires. I'll never be anything else. Not like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ian shuffled his feet and looked around. "Nothing… except… You're a smart girl Alisaunne de Pres. You're gonna be a professor yourself and teach others. Not me… a coal miner's son I was raised and that I'll always be." With that he pivoted, turning his coat collar up and headed out into the cold rain.

"Ian…" But Alisaunne's word went unheeded… her call unanswered. Tears filled her eyes. For a moment she considered racing after him… but she had done that almost three years ago and convinced him to stay. Perhaps it _was_ time for him to go. He seemed to be immune to growing older… with her.

Slowly Alisaunne buttoned her coat and headed out the door… putting up the umbrella against the falling icy rain. She bent slightly into the wind as she moved through the crowd and out into the commons area. Feeling the hot tears on her cheeks seem to freeze in the bite of the wind… only stiffened her resolve. "Ian Daffyd! You are not the only one who can be stubborn. I will not run after you like some silly school girl. Go then… and good riddance!" she whispered silently. But in her heart… she didn't mean it. Turning… she headed for her rooms on the far side of the campus.

Ian wanted to turn back. He'd relented the last time he'd left… and returned to her. But not this time. Alisaunne needed to move on with her life… he needed to let her. This time… he would not let his love for her draw him back. At the far side of the commons he glanced back through the rain and saw her head for home. The immortal nodded. By staying longer than he should have… he'd only made it worse. Now she would hate him… but at least… she'd have that chance for a normal life.

Sadly the immortal young man began to make his way toward the docks. MacLeod was out of town these days… likely he was off to visit Amanda or one of his other lady friends in some part of the globe. He'd given Ian the keys and told him the barge was his if he needed it. Even Mac had agreed it was long past the time for Ian to move on. Ian would keep watch from a distance until Mac returned… and then he'd leave. Perhaps he'd travel to America. He'd never been there. Mac had said it was nice there.

The icy rain chilled him through his thin jacket and beneath his peaked cap. Ian stuffed his hands deeply into his trousers and bent his head against the wind. The rain only served to amplify his despair.

By the time Alisaunne reached the curb… the wind had picked up to an almost gale force and she was struggling with the umbrella and her book bag. Taking her anger out on the worthless piece of technology as it billowed and buckled in the wind… Alisaunne stepped into the street. Only the squeal of brakes made her look up. Already it was too late.

She felt the all too solid hit of the car as it rammed into her. For one moment… she seemed to fly through the air… out-distancing the pain she knew would surely follow. Then all came crashing down. She crumpled onto the icy pavement and the pain of the moment rose about her in waves of torment.

Even as she seemed to see others crowd around her as from a far distance… to see their mouths move… and to hear nothing… the blackness rose. And within the blackness… the skin on her arms and chest burned… and she could hear the cackle of Nestor's voice as from some nightmare, "_At last…_"


	8. Chapter 7

****

Chapter 7

__

Ste. Genevieve

Valeraine was instantly on her feet as soon as she'd seen the change in Nick's face. Casting away the Aristotle she'd been reading she sought to place her tiny hands on either side of the young immortal's smirking face.

"Nick! Hear me Nick! Focus on my voice!" Valeraine glanced about to see Micah nearby. "Get Amanda… quickly!" Then she continued to call Nick's name with a rising sense of urgency.

Moments later as Amanda came running, Valeraine stepped away from Nick and sighed as she turned to face the tall thin elder immortal. "He's fine now… but…" Valeraine motioned for them to step further away and then began to quietly speak.

"It was Nestor. For a moment he had full control… and he was very pleased… as if he had achieved something."

"What?" Amanda stared around at the nearly deserted convent garden. She'd instructed Micah to remain at the refectory… while she came to Valeraine's aid. The girl so seldom asked for her… Amanda had known it had to be something.

Nick seemed to shudder within the restraints of his chair as if whatever had possessed him had taken a great deal of his waning strength to cast off.

"I don't know!" Valeraine insisted. "But it was truly him! I still recall the expressions on his face as he taunted us before we let Nick kill him. It was a sense of triumph that he had found a way to beat us all… a way to win."

"You told me you thought he was better."

Valeraine stared at the ground and carefully drug the toe of one foot back and forth across the pebbled path. "I thought he was!" she said quietly and then met Amanda's dark eyes. "I truly thought he was better… but it seems Nestor had only stopped showing himself to me… aware that I did not listen to his pleas… aware that I would never be his pawn." Her shoulders seemed to sag with the weight of her words.

Amanda carefully hugged the girl toward her… aware that while Valeraine was not a child… she still lived in a child's body and that there were times that… even with all her years… Valeraine was still so very young. "Then what has changed?" Amanda murmured, "What has changed?"

Amanda paced back and forth about Sister Luke's office… her cell phone in her hands. "Come on MacLeod…" she snapped urgently, "Pick up!"

Finally he did. "MacLeod," came the strong baritone voice with the faintest trace of Scots accent. She could hear female laughter in the background and the soft sounds of music.

"Mac… it's Amanda."

Instantly the rather genial tone of the Highlander's voice changed. "What's happened?" He'd tried to get Amanda to stay in touch over the years, but generally he was the one to call her. When he'd pressed for her to call him occasionally… or leave the convent to meet him somewhere… she'd desisted. "You call… you come visit… that way… when I do call… You'll know there's a problem," she'd said.

As Amanda explained what had happened, Duncan sobered and motioned for his lady companion to shush as he walked out onto her balcony to stare at the moonlight and the stars on the ocean view at Cannes. Now… hearing of Nestor's expression… Duncan felt as if a cold hand was squeezing his throat. "Keep me apprised, Amanda. It's likely nothing, but I'll head back to Paris in the morning. I promise I'll stay in touch." With that he shut off the cell phone and placed his hands behind his back as he considered what he might now have to do.

He had no way to contact Methos but he did have an email address for Phillip, not that he picked up on it or answered often. Still, he'd need to contact the Greek if it was anything serious… but meanwhile… he needed to get to Paris. First he needed to check on Alisaunne, be certain she was safe, and then he could decide what next to do.

He hadn't complained when Methos had explained that he would vanish for awhile. "Eleanor and I need this time together, MacLeod. And Derrick needs time to grow up." Duncan had almost smiled at that thought. He knew Derrick was aware that somehow he had an immortal's memories. Duncan wondered if Methos and Ellie were aware of it yet. He hoped so… but the boy was still essentially a boy. So… he'd have to leave them out of his calculations. Still… if he really needed help… Phillip would come… even if he had to expose himself to the eyes of the Watchers… Phillip would come.

Duncan had not seen the Greek since that day they'd arranged for Nestor's death… no not death… transfer and imprisonment were the more accurate words… although the mortal creature using the name Nestor had certainly died. But through their occasional emails over the intervening years, Phillip and Duncan had begun to forge a friendship that just might mean something in years to come. Duncan had to admit… he sorely missed having immortal friends. Fitz was dead. Connor was dead. Richie was dead. Methos was unavailable, and Amanda, while loving and available, was focused on another life.

"One of us needs to watch him Duncan. I knew Nick. I could tell the difference… and I can make certain no one takes his head."

So he'd let her stay there… He'd visited. He'd called. He'd tried to get her away if only for a weekend. But for once in her long life, Amanda seemed to have truly found a purpose in life that did not involve self-indulgent behavior… or thievery. Duncan chuckled.

"Penny for your thoughts." Long silky arms surrounded him as Meaghann came up behind him to lay her head on his back. He could smell her musky and expensive perfume. Her fingers tugged at his shirt and slipped beneath it to tickle up and down his bare chest, resting finally on his crotch as if waiting for his response.

Duncan groaned and turned… kissing her fingers one by one and then the palms of her hands. "Sorry… darling… duty calls… a business emergency." He brushed her long red hair from her face and bent to kiss her.

She responded… flowing against him as if to conform herself entirely to his needs. Then she whispered as he moved his lips to her shoulder. "What kind of emergency could a wealthy playboy have?" Her hands pulled at his belt buckle and pushed against him, in an almost kneading motion.

With a moan, Duncan pulled back. "You have no idea!" he murmured and turned to leave… only to have her hands slip once more inside his shirt and this time inside his pants and caress him ever so seductively. Duncan closed his eyes and breathed heavily. Her silky hands invited him to stay… begged him to stay.

With an eager grin… Duncan turned once more toward Meaghann Reilly. He considered just concentrating on her needs for the moment and fully pleasing her… using his centuries of prowess to make certain to satisfy her and leave her sleeping so soundly that he could easily leave before dawn without a further distraction. But he really needed to go. He pushed her away slightly and regretfully. Meaghann refused to be pushed away and flowed against him once more… her eager mouth and tongue finding his. "_Oh… what a lovely distraction she is_," he thought as pulled the zipper of her dress down and curled his fingers around the thin spaghetti straps, pushing them off her shoulders so that the dress could be maneuvered off her voluptuous form. He still had time… there was no real hurry, after all.

At the same time, Meaghann's hands were already unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants with an eagerness that Duncan found intoxicating. Already her cool fingers were caressing him, kneading him so that leaving was no longer even a remote possibility… at least not for while. Her tongue found his left ear and darted in and out and then she blew ever so softly so that the moistened ear hairs were all aquiver and he felt an electric thrill go through him.

With a rough laugh, Duncan suddenly gathered Meaghann into his arms and carried her to her bed. He ripped open his own shirt… heedless of the flying buttons and climbed onto her with an eagerness he had seldom felt in recent years.

Whatever it was… Nestor would just have to wait until morning. After all… the mad immortal wasn't going anywhere. He was as much a prisoner of his body as Duncan was of his own at the moment. But Duncan at least… was fully enjoying his captivity.

Outside in the darkness, a cigarette glowed momentarily from an inhaled breath… and then was flicked away and stepped on.


	9. Chapter 8

_Comments? Anyone? Sorry... I get antsy when I don't hear from you!_ elle

**Chapter 8**

**Paris, later that night**

Alisaunne's eyes snapped open… surprised that she felt nothing… no pain… no trauma. The room she was in was dark except for the pale glow from a nearby low light and that from a rectangle of bright light off to her right… light making its way into the room from an outside hallway through the window on a door. She lay in a hard bed… beneath a cold white sheet.

She took a deep breath and shivered… trying to place where she was and what had happened. She could feel the beginnings of what must be a headache, as something seemed to buzz and throb within her.

"Good! You're awake!"

Alisaunne turned toward the sound of Ian's solemn voice.

"Hush now lass… don't try to speak. Just nod." He leaned over her with a warm expression.

Alisaunne licked her dry lips and nodded. Already she had a thousand questions.

"Do you recall bein' hit by that car?" When she nodded, Ian stroked her face with such a sad expression she thought she'd cry. "You were hurt lass, you're in hospital and I have to get you out of here before they learn that you heal fast." Ian smiled weakly. "Remember?"

Alisaunne nodded and tried to sit up… aware only that that persistent throb in her head was almost enough to make her sick. Vaguely she recalled the accident… and the voice. Glancing over at Ian she started to tell him only for him to place a finger on her lips.

"We'll talk later. Gather your strength. I've something for you to put on… I'll help… and then we have to go. We have no time for talk now."

Alisaunne nodded as she let him pull a sweater over her head and thrust her arms into the sleeves. Next he fitted a pair of loose sweatpants over her feet and worked them up her legs… When they were high enough he pulled her to her feet and slipped them over her hips. At that he gave her another smile and softly ran a hand though her tangled hair.

"First time I ever remember dressing you rather than undressing you."

Alisaunne laughed as she lifted one foot and then the other into the flats he'd placed on the floor. She still felt strange and not at all certain of her balance. Ian reached for a long coat and threw it over her shoulders.

"If you're ready now, Alisaunne de Pres… we can go. Keep your face down as if crying and say nothing." He perched a brimmed rain hat on her head and pulled it low over her eyes.

Once more Alisaunne nodded. That wouldn't be hard… she didn't feel much like walking and talking right now anyway. She sagged against him as he gently maneuvered her through the cautiously opened door of the room and then down the hall to the stairwell door at the end.

Glancing around swiftly to be certain no one saw them, Ian opened the door and helped the young woman through it and slowly down the stairs. Luck was with them… they'd met no one on the stairs. When they reached the ground floor he peered through the rectangular door window and then opened it swiftly crossing the lobby as quietly as he could with Alisaunne leaning on him.

A security guard tipped his hat to the couple solemnly and opened the glass entry door to let them pass… obviously thinking they'd just lost a family member and that Ian was consoling the woman in his arms. The boy nodded his thanks and descended the icy steps to the waiting cab.

A few feet short of the cab Alisaunne suddenly struggled in Ian's arms.

"It burns! Make it stop! Make it stop!" She reached out and began clawing at her arms.

Confused, Ian held her more tightly, "Hush now lass… We have to go. Be quiet now… come along quietly… we're almost safe." His words made little sense to her… but she complied… still rubbing and clawing at her arms and chest, wondering why they burned… and what was the matter with her.

The ride in the taxicab was like a nightmare.

All Alisaunne could quite recall was that the throb in her head refused to stop and that the driver seemed to keep up a steady stream of conversation about the sights. Alisaunne had buried her face in Ian's chest and shuddered as the burning pain along her arms, palms, chest and abdomen grew in intensity. Somewhere in the back of her mind she kept hearing a half-strangled cackle and she thought it must be some sort of long delayed reaction to her memories of Nestor re-awakening somehow in the trauma of her accident.

She'd seldom been hurt in her life. Once as a small child she'd fallen and skinned her knees rather badly only to see them heal in seconds. That was when Uncle Jacques had told her she was special and that she must never tell anyone that she could heal like that. After that, although she'd basically gone where she wished and done what she pleased without fear… fear that she would be injured… she'd never really been hurt again… Not until Nestor had sliced her over and over with his knife as well as slicing himself and rubbed himself against her as a part of his rape of her.

She'd remembered that it had happened. But she had never really remembered the pain and terror of the event. If she thought of it at all… she thought mostly of having grabbed Ian's sword and thrust it into the madman to kill him. It hadn't killed him… but Duncan had assured her the man was dead. So why now was the nightmare once more real? After all… she'd healed in seconds… the cuts had been superficial. Why now after almost five years, were the memories back?

"There now lass, you have a good cry." Ian held her with a slight rocking motion. At least he was here for her. At least he had come back to her. She found herself wadding his shirt into balls in her fists as she sobbed and wanted it all to be over… letting out completely all that she had held in for years.

Finally the taxi stopped and they climbed out. As Ian paid the driver, Alisaunne wiped her tears from her face and glanced around wondering why they were at Duncan's barge. She held her tongue until the taxi drove off. "Why are we here?"

"I'll explain once we're inside. Come along now, lass, let's not tarry." He held her gently to propel her up the gangplank.

Alisaunne shrugged his arm off. "I'm not helpless Ian Daffyd! I'm hurt and confused and I'm wearing someone else's clothes and I want to go home and take a bath and wash my hair and sleep in my own bed! Now why are we here instead?"

Ian glanced around as if he were worried someone was watching them. "I'll explain inside. I've stolen you from hospital… Where do you think the authorities will look first for you? As it is… they may come here, too."

Alisaunne made to complain once more, but suddenly seemed to accept that Ian was likely doing the best he could under the circumstances. She turned to march up the gangplank alone. "Well then let's get inside. I can't wait to hear your explanations for all this skullduggery… Another thing, stop patronizing me… I'm not sick… I'm fine… really!"

Behind her she heard Ian chuckle as he followed her onto the deck and then down into the barge's main room. "Of that I have no doubt, Alisaunne des Pres."

Inside the barge, Ian turned on a lamp and then crossed to the small gas fireplace. There was a real chill in the barge since he'd been out all day. He lit the fire and then turned to approach Alisaunne.

"Would you like a drink or anything?"

Alisaunne had shrugged off the long coat and laid it on the back of the sofa. She'd never liked coming here. The barge always reminded her too much of the day that _Monsieur_ Maillot had died… the day her nightmare had begun. She turned about and rubbed her arms within the long sweater. The burning had ceased for the moment.

"Are you staying here?"

"Aye… Duncan said I could stay here while he was on the Riviera… until I found a place of my own."

"You could always come back." Alisaunne's lower lip trembled. Surely he still didn't mean to just walk out of her life.

"Aye… that I could… except…" his voice trailed away as if he was uncertain what to say next.

So Alisaunne said it for both of them. "Whatever your reasons for leaving… I still love you! I still want to be with you!" She crossed to him and reached to stroke his downy cheek. She smiled at his sad eyes. "I don't care what it is… I'll deal with it."

"Aye lass… now you'll have to." Ian said and backed away. He reached into the fridge for a beer and held up another one for her with a question in his eyes.

Alisaunne shook her head. "No… I'm still cold… and if I've had a head injury I shouldn't drink. I still have this really throbbing headache." She ran one hand over her brow and winced at the non-stop throb that had been present since she'd awakened.

Ian took a long drink for his beer. "I know," he said softly.

Suddenly Alisaunne shrieked as the burning in her hands and along her arms started once more. She clawed at her arms in terror. "What is happening to me?"

Ian set the beer down and crossed the room with great concern. He pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and stared at the welts appearing and vanishing all along her arms.

Alisaunne began to claw at her chest. "Make it stop! Make it stop!" She pulled off the sweater and started scratching at the welts appearing there.

Ian grabbed her hands. "I've never seen this happen before. This isn't right!"

Then Alisaunne felt as if she were being violated roughly in the worst possible way. She screamed in terror as she tried to escape the cold feel of rape happening all over again. She tore at the sweatpants crying, "Make him stop!" In the back of her mind she could here Nestor laughing once more.

A bewildered Ian grabbed her hands and thrust them behind her as he pulled her close. "I'm here Alisaunne. Whatever's happening it's not real. You're fine. You're safe. You're with me," he kept reassuring her.

Alisaunne moaned at the unrelenting assault on her senses. Finally she gazed deeply into Ian's eyes. "Make love to me Ian. Banish the nightmare. Make love to me now!"

Her mouth eagerly reached for his.

Ian found himself responding. Gradually he loosened the grip on her hands and she pulled at him and his clothes. Softly… as always… frightened of hurting her… of making her remember the other… he let his own hands gently caress her and felt his need for her rise.

Alisaunne wanted more than gentleness. She wanted him to take her roughly and banish the feel of the other. In desperation she began to bite his neck, his lips, his chest… and rip at his clothes. She became the aggressor and when they fell onto Duncan's bed… she took the lead in their lovemaking as she had never before dared… pushing the limits of love into something else… something wild and dangerous.

"Tomorrow," thought Ian, "I'll tell her tomorrow," and responded to her ardor with the long denied passion he had always felt for her, yet had never truly shared with her.


	10. Chapter 9

****

Chapter 9

Scotland

Derrick focused on the computer game. He'd fired the old fuel oil generator up this afternoon long enough to charge the batteries to operate the old laptop. Now, by the light of the oil lamp, the boy sat shifting pages of cryptic writings… photographs of artifacts… trying desperately to have them make sense. His inner memories were strangely silent these days. As if the need for him to grow up was far stronger than the need to remember what it was that was still hidden from him.

Shoving the laptop away from him with a snarl, the boy kicked back and glared at it. Methos seldom had an interest in it any more. It was as if by being on this farm… whatever mysteries the outside world held, were banished for the ancient. He seemed satisfied to remain in this place… and in this time that sometimes seemed to have no time. The game had become merely something Derrick liked to play. It had ceased to be something Methos needed to discover.

Derrick had long ago realized that Methos had turned most of the information and research over to MacLeod and had washed his hands of it. All except this copy of the game… the game that still fascinated Derrick. But the game went no where. Indeed, Derrick was beginning to think it was all some twisted joke.

A hum sounded.

At first Derrick thought he'd damaged the laptop. If he had… he'd likely not get another. And then he'd not even have the game. But the computer was fine. He shut it off. The hum continued.

Crossing to his bed, Derrick knelt and lifted the covers to peer beneath. The hum was louder. Slowly he pulled the now dusty velvet bag out from beneath his bed and, settling with his back against the bed, withdrew the crystal.

A soft glow emanated from the stone. Derrick stared at it… but nothing was clear. Yet he felt something had changed. Something somewhere was different. The stone, however, was not the source of the hum. Thoughtfully he replaced it into the bag and drew the cord. Then he peered beneath the bed and pulled out the sword case.

Swallowing dryly, he opened it. The hum was louder. Derrick pulled the old sword out of the case and held it on his lap. He seldom gave this thing a second thought. He knew it was there. He knew it was his. He knew it had once been the other's sword. But other than that? _A sword is just a sword._ Derrick could clearly hear the voice he knew was Darius in his mind. He nodded. He knew that.

Rising to his feet Derrick swung it awkwardly about a few times. It was big. It was heavy… and it was long… but not nearly so long as it had once seemed. He was nearly fifteen now. He was growing into the size needed to wield this sword… as he understood he needed to.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come!" the boy said with a touch more force than he'd intended.

"I was driving into the village tomorrow and…" Methos' voice trailed away. He paused staring at the sight of Derrick flexing the great sword in his hands. "I didn't think you had any interest in that thing." Derrick could near a bit of nervousness in his friend's voice.

Derrick lowered the sword with a shrug. "I don't… not really… but it _is_ mine… and… Well… you once offered to show me how to use it… remember?"

Methos nodded. "That was mainly because Eleanor and I live by the sword… we just wanted you…"

"Not to be afraid around them… I understand. But… Adam… I think maybe I'd like to learn."

Methos nodded. "Perhaps it is time." He glanced behind him as if checking as to where Eleanor was and what she was doing. Then he turned to the boy with a wry smile. "Let's not tell Eleanor about this though… She worries… After all she doesn't want you thinking you'd ever have to really use one."

"Right… cause I'm not immortal." Derrick said it plainly… but there was a long pause… as if he waited for the unspoken to be spoken.

"Right." Methos ran one hand through his dark hair and glanced at the floor. "As I was saying when I came in… I have to go into the village tomorrow for supplies and thought you'd like to come. Eleanor's staying here. We could make a day of it… just us guys… and I can give you some lessons. Just how to hold it and care for it… After all, it's still a little big for you. In fact… we could work with some sticks for a while."

"Sticks?"

Methos scratched his jaw. "I'll explain tomorrow. Why don't you put that thing away for now." He motioned toward the sword.

Derrick nodded and replaced the sword in its case and shoved the case under the bed. "Yeah… it _is_ pretty big… but I keep thinking it would be neat to really know how to use it."

"Derrick," Methos put his arms on the boy's shoulders. "Listen to me carefully. If you are thinking that you could learn to use it somehow to protect Eleanor or me with it… fight off another immortal if they happened upon us here… you can't. Promise me you will not even try."

The boy met the immortal's gaze evenly and nodded. "I promise," he offered softly. "But…" and then he smiled, "What about learning some hand-to-hand fighting? Maybe that would be better!" He grinned.

Methos chuckled, "Now that I think we can arrange. And Derrick… I _will_ teach you how to use that sword… but let's not rush anything… Okay?"

"Okay," Derrick nodded.

"Good lad! We'll leave after breakfast. Goodnight." Methos squeezed Derrick's arm with a small smile and turned to go.

"Adam?"

The immortal turned back to the boy.

"Thanks."

Methos nodded and left, softly closing the door behind him.

Derrick extinguished the lamp and stretched out on his bed. From the main room he could hear laughter and low voices. Methos and Eleanor were happy… That was the important thing. Derrick took a deep breath and focused on the hum.

For a moment he could visualize himself wielding the sword in battle. Swinging it to and fro with a stabbing and hacking motion… oblivious of the carnage around him. The past was calling to him once more. Derrick shook his head. It wasn't the past he wanted… it truly wasn't… it was the future… an unformed and still unclear future that waited for him once he was grown. As the misty whiteness that had momentarily shone in the crystal… Derrick knew the future lay before him like clay in a potter's hands… or metal waiting for the blacksmith to forge it. For a moment he could hear the clang of hammer on steel and the hiss of water as hot steel was plunged into it. He could feel the heat of the fire as he pumped the bellows, and he could see the metal glow red in the fire. His eyes snapped open accompanied by a startled gasp, and he shivered.

Derrick noticed the hum had stopped. Something had happened in the outer world… and he feared he might have to grow up a little faster than he had planned.

****

Berlin

Kenny huddled in the darkness and watched the drunken immortal wander through the streets. What a fool this one was. The boy had been watching Claus Schmidt for nearly a week. Evidently the man as yet had no idea he was an immortal. The drunkard had evidently revived after a particularly severe beating two weeks ago… and had simply gone home and then continued his poor excuse for a life as if nothing had changed. The fact that he'd healed miraculously… not cuts, no bruises, no broken bones, was evidently lost on the man in his nightly stupor.

From what little intelligence Kenny had gathered about Schmidt, he was recently divorced, about forty, and had lost his job. Rather than focus on rebuilding a life and finding a new job… Schmidt was still reeling from his losses and drinking heavily.

"The better for me," Kenny grimaced, "Though you won't have much." The boy followed the green immortal down an alley and stood watching the man stumble into a load of refuse and fall into a drunken stupor. Even from here, Kenny could hear the man's snoring.

"Guess this might put you out of your misery."

Kenny drew his short sword and crept up on the man. Schmidt sat up and looked groggily around. "Damned headache! Comes and goes!"

"I know," said Kenny and rushed him, swinging away at Schmidt's head. The quickening, blessedly short and of minor degree… was barely enough to satisfy him… but it was one more immortal he'd never have to face again. Unlike most of the child immortals… Kenny had long years behind him and a skill in the game that, despite his lack of size and strength, he'd learned to compensate for. But even after over eight hundred years, he still wished he'd been a little bit older when he'd died… say fifteen instead of ten… or even fourteen… Surely at fourteen, he might have been old enough to be able to love a woman. Maybe even at thirteen… or twelve… could he at twelve have managed it? The boy sighed. It did no good to think these thoughts. They were usually more pronounced after a quickening… when the memories of the men he took sometimes conjured up the women they had once loved.

Kenny wiped his sword clean, hid it within his coat and headed back to the main street. Behind him, hidden in the shadows, he did not notice the woman who watched and waited.


	11. Chapter 10

****

Chapter 10

Paris, the following day

It was early morning by the time Duncan hit the outskirts of Paris. He'd managed to extricate himself from Meaghann's embrace and despite her protestations… had left, hours before he'd really wanted to.

"I really have to go," he'd kissed her as she clung to him while he dressed. "I'll call." Even now in the car, after several hours, he was still feeling excited even thinking of her. That woman had moves he'd never seen before… and considering his age… that was saying something. Still, he needed to get back, he needed to check on Alisaunne, and he needed to contact Phillip and then make arrangements to lose his Watcher for a few days while he checked out the inhabitants at _Ste. Genevieve_. All were things he could not do from Cannes… nor with Meaghann Reilly looking over his shoulder and blowing in his ear.

Duncan parked in his spot near the barge and grabbed his bag as he headed for the gangplank. Just as he reached the midpoint… he could feel someone here. Duncan narrowed his gaze as he wondered who would be here at this time of morning. It was still early.

Glancing about to see if a backup Watcher or anyone else was anywhere nearby… no one was… Duncan set the bag on the deck and carefully drew his _katana_. It might be nothing… but it was better to be prepared.

Silently he approached the door to his quarters and opened it… softly entering the cabin. He turned about… holding his _katana_ before him and moving through his _kata_ of opening moves to limber up. He paused staring at his bed.

There were two immortals there. One was Ian and the other was a female… he could see a leg. Then the female shifted and moaned… holding her head… it was Alisaunne! Duncan froze. Ian awoke and jumped toward his sword.

Duncan slammed the boy against the bulkhead, holding him by the neck… his _katana_ flexed and raised to cut. "What did you do?" he growled.

"Duncan?"

Duncan's eyes glanced at Alisaunne who was trying to pull a sheet about her.

"What's the problem?" she continued, rubbing and shaking her head. "Damn headache!"

Duncan focused his attention on Ian who shook his head. "I didn't do it. She was in an accident."

The Highlander pulled back and stared back and forth at the two young people.

"What is it with you and swords! Honestly, every time I see you, Duncan, you are threatening someone with a sword." By this time Alisaunne had climbed from the bed wrapped only in the sheet.

"Does she know?" Duncan's words were clipped and dark.

"I had planned to explain last night… but we got side-tracked." Ian said apologetically.

Duncan sighed. "Get dressed, both of you. Ian I want to see you top-side."

Alisaunne ran a hand through her tangled dark hair. "I'd love to get dressed but I don't have any clothes here and I need a bath and…"

Striding to a bureau, Duncan roughly opened a drawer and pulled out some old clothes of Amanda's that she'd left behind years ago. He tossed them to Alisaunne. "Here… the shower's back there. Ian…" he snapped. "Topside… now."

"Honestly Duncan, you act like some wronged guardian. It's not as if you didn't know about us. We have been living together for the past five years." Alisaunne gathered the clothes in her arms and marched off to the shower in a huff.

Duncan shook his head as he stared after her. Then he headed to the deck of the barge, followed shortly by a chastened Ian, hopping as he pulled on his boots.

Leaning on the rail, Duncan waited quietly while Ian explained Alisaunne's accident and his own complicity in getting her out of the hospital before anyone noticed. "I had to bring her here. I feared the authorities would check her place."

Duncan nodded. "You should have told her already."

"I was trying to when she started screaming that Nestor was attacking her. I thought it was some sort of flashback… maybe due to the accident suddenly bringing those memories out again. I focused on her… on helping her… not on the rest of it… not on trying to explain things. I've never had to tell anyone before."

Duncan eyed the empty _quai_ and the nearby _pont_, still deserted in the early morning fog. "Bringing her here might not have been a good idea either. We need to get her away from here before the Watchers pick up on her."

Ian nodded. "What do you suggest?"

"Well… let's you and I tell her together and then we'll see. I have those emergency documents I made up in case any of us had to leave France quickly… but where to go?"

"Aye… she can't stay in Paris… and I don't think she should go to _Ste. Genevieve_ with _him_ still there."

Duncan nodded thoughtfully. "About what time did it happen?" When Ian told him, Duncan realized that must have been shortly before Amanda had called. "No… we definitely can't take her to the convent. In fact… we might need to get her as far from there as we can."

"Why? Is there something I don't know?" Ian sounded truly worried.

Duncan told him.

The young man's face paled. "That doesn't sound good… not good at all."

Duncan's fingers tapped on the railing as he nodded. "Now… let's you and I go face Alisaunne with the truth… or at least as much of it as she can manage for the moment."

"Aye."

Alisaunne stared out the porthole, painfully aware of the silence of the two men… no… make that immortals… behind her. Her mind was a whirl with what they had told her.

"We are immortal… we cannot die. We do not age. You are now immortal. We've known this for some time. We couldn't tell you… We had to wait for you to die a violent death and be re-born." The sentences jumbled together and made no sense.

Alisaunne turned back to toward them, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms. She was cold… so very cold. "And the swords?"

The two men glanced at one another sheepishly. Finally Duncan cleared his throat. "There is one way we can die. If someone cuts off our heads… then all we are goes to the victor… all our power of immortality… all our skill… all our knowledge."

Alisaunne regarded them coldly. "And Nestor?" she hissed. "He was like that too?"

They both nodded.

"But he's dead… you told me he's dead."

Duncan rose from the sofa, crossing the room to stand before her. "He is dead, Alisaunne. But something of him remains trapped within the one who killed him. He cannot hurt you… ever again. We won't let him."

"Then what did I feel last night?" Thrusting out an arm pointed at the bed she screamed at them both. "That wasn't me… I felt him… He was here!"

"I don't know, girl, I don't know. I truly don't. But first things first. You cannot remain in Paris. I have papers ready to get you out of France… I prepared them years ago and kept updating them. We leave now… " Duncan turned to his safe and dialed the combination to retrieve the documents for all three of them. Ian would need to leave here as well.

"What about my friends? What about my life? What about my career?" she cried.

"Lass," Ian's eyes were filled with tears. "Ya canna go back to that… any of it. They know you died. They saw ya when ya were hurt. There are too many witnesses. Ya have to leave and start a new life… somewhere else… and ya have to learn to survive."

"You mean I have to learn to kill!" Her voice peaked on the final word.

The two men silently nodded.

"Let's go," Duncan said as he pocketed the documents in his long coat, carefully sequestering his _katana_ within it. He glanced around… there was nothing else he needed. He'd learned long ago to travel light when moving on. And this time… Duncan MacLeod knew even he had to vanish. He picked up the bag with his laptop… the only thing he dared not leave behind, and waited.

Ian grabbed his own coat and sword and a backpack lying near the door. There was nothing else for him here.

Alisaunne looked around. "I have nothing here. All my things are at home."

"We can buy whatever you need. We can't risk your going home to get anything. We need to go and we need to go now," Duncan told her quietly.

Ian threw the long coat she'd worn last night once more about her shoulders. "I won't leave ya lass… not unless you want me to. I'll never leave you… never again."

Alisaunne closed her eyes and leaned into Ian's embrace for a moment. Her world was collapsing around her once more. And once more… Ian… her rock… her anchor… was all that kept her from drowning. She straightened, giving him a thin smile and a nod as she pulled the brimmed rain hat on her head. "Let's go then. You lead and I will follow."

The three immortals left the locked barge and climbed into the _Ferrari_, driving off… into the foggy Paris morning.

****

Cannes

Meaghann's cheek throbbed from the slap. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Bitch!" Rawlins screamed as he belted her across the mouth one more time just to be certain she got the message. "You were supposed to keep him here!"

"I tried. I tried like hell. I tried everything… every trick I know," Meaghann moaned as Rawlins tangled his fist into her red hair and pulled.

He sneered at her, "Evidently not hard enough."

"He was adamant about leaving. But he said he'd call." Rawlins forced her to her knees and glowered at her, roughly sliding his other hand along her face.

"And that is why you still live. Now…" he said undoing his pants as he stood over her. "Make yourself useful… and do it right… just like I showed you." He forced Meaghann's head closer and leered. "MacLeod is essential to our plan. You better be right about his calling you. You had just better be right."

Meaghann crept closer to meekly do as she was told.


	12. Chapter 11

****

Chapter 11

Paris

Joe Dawson struggled with the accounts. He hated this side of the business. He loved owning _Le Blues Bar_. He loved playing genial host. Hell, he loved playing his music. But he hated the paperwork. Joe sighed and shook his head. He hated it, but he needed to be hands on about something these days… especially as he was no longer MacLeod's Watcher. He had way too much time on his hands.

Three days ago Mac had stopped in to tell him he was headed to Cannes for a week to ten days. "It's cold and I want to go where it's warm. Besides… I hear the scenery's great." Mac had grinned as he arched his eyebrows making it clear what scenery he meant.

Joe had chuckled. "Yeah… It sounds great Mac. Have a nice time."

"You could join me."

Joe's chuckle had turned into a full-blown guffaw. "At my age? I can see it now. The tall red-head and the tall blonde… one on each arm… wearing bikinis and kissing my cheek." Joe had waved him off.

"It could happen," Mac had teased.

"You know… I'm not your Watcher anymore… You don't have to tell me where you're headed."

Mac had sobered at that point. "No… but you are my friend. I'd want you to know where I was."

Joe had lifted a glass, "To friendship!" They'd drunk their toast… and Mac had left. Joe had remained behind. "Damn!" the old Watcher said as he leaned back in his chair. Thoughts of the Riviera danced through his mind and he could visualize Mac… dressed in tuxedo… dancing… gambling… meeting beautiful ladies… dancing…" Joe shook his head. Even though he didn't have the Chronicles… he still had his memories… and… he had something else.

Joe spun the dial on his safe, opened it and pulled out four bound journals in various stages of use. The thin one with so few entries was Richie Ryan's journal. Joe flipped through the entries. They weren't the official Chronicle of Richie Ryan immortal, initially dead at eighteen, finally dead for real at twenty-two. They were a record of the time the two of them had spent together… the conversations, the jokes, the good times.

Joe halted at one entry. "I still cannot believe it!" he'd written in 1994. "That kid took a bullet for me. I stood right over him while he tells me he'll be right back. It took about twenty minutes. I managed to pull him out of the way and keep an eye on him until he revived. I've seen MacLeod revive from a distance over the years, but I've never been up close. This kid… this young, smart-mouth, street-wise kid… threw himself in front of bullet for me. Even knowing he's immortal and can come back… that takes guts. I know… I've been shot before. It hurts like hell!"

He flipped through a few more pages and stopped. There was a photo taken one New Year's Eve at the bar in Seacouver. Richie Ryan… the All-American boy… and Joe Dawson. They were staring into the camera lens. Richie's arm was behind Joe and he'd stuck two fingers up behind Joe's head. "Good times!" smiled Joe and then sadly closed the book. Richie's life as an immortal had been far too short… not even four years. Joe laid the journal aside.

The next one was Methos'. Joe shook his head. The Watchers would be delirious if they ever got hold of this one. True, at least half of what Methos had told him over the years since Joe had learned who he was back in 1993 had to be part tall tale and part out and out lie. Still… the chance to even talk to someone who had walked the earth since the time of earliest civilizations… was truly mesmerizing. Joe thumbed through the entries until he got to the last one.

"He saved my life. The son-of-a-bitch likely put me in harm's way… and then he pulled out all the stops to be certain I survived. Anne tells me that until she forced him to leave, he sat at the hospital… covered in my blood. Now he's gone and I wonder if I'll ever be able to thank him properly." He hadn't seen Methos since that day. He'd spoken to him once… briefly… when he'd called to tell them that they had killed Nestor and ask if Joe could arrange for a clean-up crew to cover up the mess. Joe had been too relieved that Duncan and Methos had been successful to thank him. He hadn't heard from him since. Methos had vanished.

Joe closed that journal. There were no photos in there. Methos usually had jumped up to be the photographer or had somehow always managed to be out of the shot… "Part of my charm!" he'd smirked once. No… Methos' journal were mainly the ramblings of the old man to Joe about what he did remember… and what he was willing to tell of his long life… that, and Joe's exasperation about Methos and his secretive and sometimes duplicitous nature.

Joe's hand moved to the thick one next. This was Mac's journal. This was where he'd kept the unofficial record of his friendship with Mac… and all the things he'd done that broke his Watcher Oath… in the name of that friendship. That's really how all of this started. He'd wanted there to be a record… one in case something happened to him… Joe had wanted the record clear that what he'd done had to be done. Now… he truly hoped none of it would ever be general knowledge within the Watchers. Joe opened the journal.

There was a photo of Mac and him at the Eiffel tower back in 2005. They'd taken it in on the ten-year anniversary of his duel there with Kalas. Joe had asked a passing tourist to snap the shot. He remembered hoping that somehow Methos and Amanda could have been there too. But Mac didn't know how to reach Methos… and Amanda was busy.

"You two on the outs?" Joe had asked.

Mac had smiled, "No… she just has this little project these days."

"You know, Mac, you are getting as close-mouthed as Methos ever was," Joe had snapped at him.

Mac had smiled mysteriously and replied, "Am I?"

"Damn straight," Joe had said then and he repeated it again. "Damn straight." Joe closed the journal and opened the fourth one… Amanda's.

There was little in this one. But what was there showed Joe's appreciation of the female immortal. He read the first entry on her. "I met THE Amanda today. She is as beautiful and charming as any of the Chronicles ever described. She came with Mac to the bar and teased me about being 'one of those guys who like to watch.' She seems amused by the prospect of being watched. I just hope whoever is assigned to her in future years, knows to keep his distance. I have a feeling she might not really find being watched amusing." He flipped over a few pages and paused. "Amanda is determined to help me. She and Mac are going to steal this Cross of St. Antoine from Thorne's home. Amanda… who can and probably has at one time or another, stolen anything of note… is stealing this… to try and force Thorne to come to Mac… so we can prove he killed Lauren." Joe closed the journal. He missed Amanda. It had been eight years since he'd seen her, and that last time was all too brief. She'd been with that pre-immortal friend of hers Nick Wolfe. Joe wondered whatever had become of him. He'd vanished at the time of the Nestor affair… but Mac had never mentioned his being involved. When Joe had pushed about where he might be, Mac had merely said, "Oh… he's around. I see him occasionally." But he'd never said where.

Joe rummaged through his safe once more and pulled out from its hiding place another journal. This one was Ellie's. He still didn't know if he ever wanted this one read by anyone. He'd written it while recuperating from his gunshot wounds back in 2003… after Ellie had told him her story… while it was still fresh in his mind. Like Methos'… it was a story he wasn't certain could be believed… but he thought it truthful. The Watchers had no Chronicle on Ellie… They did not know she even existed… and Joe thought it best to keep it that way. At least for now.

As with Methos' journal… there were no pictures here. The only one he had of her… the old one from 1969… he kept in the Bauedelaire. That way… if anyone saw it… she was just Lee… his date for one evening… long ago. There was a clause in his will that both the book of poetry and the photo were to be mailed to L E. Edwards upon his death at a Post Office Box in Geneva.

"Joe," she'd said softly when she'd called him in Seacouver, from France while he was recuperating. "I'm going away where there are no phones."

"Will I see you again?"

"Honestly? I don't know, Joseph. But if you do… I expect real Chicago pizza… and a Cubs game."

"And a tour of Chicago," he'd added sadly.

"And a tour of Chicago," she'd repeated wistfully.

Joe hid the slim volume in the false bottom of the safe once more. He really did need to decide what to do with Ellie's Chronicle. Perhaps he'd give it to Amy… perhaps not. Securing the compartment, Joe replaced the others in the safe and closed it, twirling the dial and listening to the tumblers click.

"I'm not a Watcher anymore guys. All of you have moved on without me." Joe returned to his desk and poured a scotch. He lifted the glass sadly to the empty room. "To absent friends," he said and downed the whiskey in a single gulp.

****

London

"Tell me again why you want to kill this man."

The voice was low, unemotional, non-threatening. In the dim office, Cassandra, stretched out on the couch, closed her eyes and tried to be as truthful as she could.

"He raped me. He belittled me. He killed my… family… he has never paid for his crimes."

"Why not testify against him?"

Cassandra sighed. She needed counseling. She'd needed it for years. But to whom can an immortal go to help them deal with the horror of their lives? Where once she might have gone to Sean Burns… or even Darius, to find solace or absolution, now there were only mortal therapists.

"He is beyond the reach of the law," she finally said.

"And so you feel you must be the one to bring him to justice."

Cassandra's eyes snapped open. She shivered. "No. I just want him to pay for his crimes." She sat up, swinging her legs to the deep-piled carpeting, feeling the slight bounce as her booted feet landed. "I need to go."

"Why? Because we may be too close to the truth?"

"You know nothing." Cassandra glared at the therapist, legs crossed, a legal notepad in her lap. "I'll pay for the entire hour. But I won't be back." Standing she grabbed her long trench coat, shrugged into it, flipping her hair out of the collar with her hand.

"Sandy… I really think you need to stay. If you do not deal with your anger… your resentment of this man… it may destroy you."

"I _am_ dealing with it. Just not in any way you can understand." Cassandra reached deeply into her pockets and grasped a handful of bills. She tossed them on the table. "That should pay my bill." Swiftly she strode to the door, opened it and headed out of the office without a backward glance.

At the elevator she barely noticed the man waiting with her, not even when he got onto the empty elevator with her and moved to the back. They were alone.

Cassandra barely registered surprised as the bullets hit her in the back. As she fell, the elevator lurched to a stop. Vaguely she was aware of being dragged from the elevator by rough hands. From far away she heard a voice… "Let Rawlins know, we have another one." It was the last cogent thought she had for some time.


	13. Chapter 12

****

Chapter 12

__

Ste. Genevieve, two days later

Amanda paced furiously about Sister Luke's office. "Why hasn't Duncan called?"

"Patience, Amanda… perhaps he's on his way." Luke's calm voice did nothing to ease Amanda's fury.

"On his way?" Amanda stopped to point in the general direction of west. "He should have called by now!" Her voice rose petulantly. "For years… he calls at the drop of a hat just to say 'Hi!' and to check on Nick's progress but the one time I call him to get his immortal butt here…" She slapped both hands on Luke's desk, "… he vanishes!"

Luke sat quietly. She was worried… but she saw no reason to be angry. "Perhaps something happened to him."

Amanda froze suddenly. Her lower lip trembled. "Do you think so?"

"Perhaps you should go to Paris and check things out. See if anyone knows anything. Ian was still there the last letter I got from him… and Alisaunne."

Amanda nodded. "Maybe I should… but can you handle things here?"

Luke chuckled, "My dear Amanda… you are much older than I am… but I do have a lifetime of experiences. Go!… Go, go, go!" Luke whisked her hands back and forth with a laugh.

Amanda reached over and kissed her brow. "Thanks. I shouldn't be long." With that Amanda stopped by her room to pack an overnight bag… just in case… and then stopped by Nick's room.

They'd had him under restraints since Nestor had started cackling and making his presence known. Ursa'd had his hands full just getting Nick to his bed. He'd kept fighting the giant… something Nick never did. It had taken Ursa, Amanda and Valeraine to get the restraints on. Then they'd had to watch him cackle and writhe within them almost as if he were in the throes of some pleasure only he was aware of. It had been grotesque. Eventually Amanda had gotten the drugs and put him out for the night.

Drugs… even drugs as strong as the ones she'd managed to procure would not keep him out of it long… and they could not continue to administer them… The drugs would lose their effectiveness. They were a short-term measure only.

In the darkened room Amanda could see Nick lying calmly on the bed. His face looked so peaceful… almost as it had before… except he was so thin now. Valeraine had crawled up on the bed next to him and curled up. She raised her head, rubbing her eyes as Amanda entered. "He's so much better, Amanda. He's almost himself again."

"It's the drugs Valeraine… It's only the drugs."

The girl swung her legs off and sat dejectedly on the side of the bed. "I don't know… I'm so tired… but he really does seem better. I was reading the Aristotle and he started making jokes. I can almost understand him sometimes."

Amanda sighed. "I need to go to Paris Valeraine. I'll be back by tomorrow. Do not let Nick out of restraints… no matter what… Promise me. Once I get back… We'll see. Understand?"

The girl nodded sadly.

Nick grunted and turned his head to face Amanda.

"He wants to tell you something, get the pencil pad." Valeraine was ecstatic. Amanda handed the girl the pencil attached to a strap and watched as Valeraine attached it to Nick's palm… Then she placed the pad of paper beneath his hand. Nick began to make crude letters.

"H…L…P," Valeraine read. She looked at Amanda. "He wants us to help him."

Nick shook his head and tried to say something. He wrote once more. "A… L… S… N," Valeraine read aloud. "You want us to help Alisaunne?" Nick nodded. "I don't understand Nick?" Nick pounded his hand onto the pad and then finally wrote one final letter over and over, "N!"

Amanda touched his other arm. "I'll tell Duncan. He'll know what to do… Don't fret Nick. You're doing fine. We'll take care of everything." She squeezed his arm affectionately and then turned to leave.

Behind her she could hear Valeraine as she curled up beside the crippled immortal once more, "Shall I read some more… " Then, evidently getting an assent from Nick, the girl began to read Aristotle aloud again.

Amanda paused by Ursa on her way to the SUV to warn him to watch Nick… to not kill him… no matter what. Ursa nodded. Amanda hoped he understood. She truly did.

****

Atlanta

The crowd at the sports bar was boisterous. Carl Robinson and Derek Worth had settled back along one wall to watch the cheering for the basketball game and drink their beers. Within the neon lighted and smoky bar… they were safely anonymous. Just two more men out for a night on the town… a drink… and a ballgame.

"I still feel a little strange coming in places like this," Derek told his teacher. He'd been on his own for several years, but something strange had happened recently, and he'd wanted to discuss it with Carl.

"Aw man, these are the safest places for us to sit and discuss things," Carl chuckled as he reacted to a foul.

"I thought holy ground was safest," responded the young immortal.

"Yeah… if we need to discuss business and setting a challenge… but in places like this… there are so many people around… we might as well be on holy ground. Did you see that?" Carl gestured at the big screen. "I swear these refs are on the take. There's no way he fouled."

Derek smiled, shaking his head. He'd always had very little in common with Carl, but the man had known how to handle a sword… and being a new immortal, Derek had needed to learn when he'd come to him. But now… "Carl… we really need to talk."

The game broke for a commercial. Carl gestured with disgust at the screen. "So what's up?"

Derek sighed. "An immortal was after me recently," he finally said.

"Who was it?" Carl took a sip of his beer and motioned to the waitress for another round.

"I'm not certain. I do know he issued a formal challenge and agreed to meet on holy ground to settle the time and the place. I arrived… he didn't."

"So he changed his mind or met someone else." Carl polished off his drink, obviously not concerned.

"That's what I thought at first… but then I saw the blood." Derek traced circles in the wet spot on the table where his own beer mug had sat. "There was blood… signs of a struggle… and something else."

"Like what?" The waitress arrived with the beers. Carl tossed his money onto her tray and grinned at her, winking as he flirted.

Once the girl had left, Derek leaned close to his teacher and whispered, "His sword. I still have it."

Suddenly he had Carl's focused attention.

Derek nodded. "He left his sword on holy ground… I'd say someone got to him there. Someone killed him on holy ground before I got there."

Carl took a long draught from the fresh beer, set it down and wiped his mouth. "Now that presents a problem. Too bad that reverend friend of yours died a few years ago… Maybe he and those Watchers MacLeod once told us of could help. Do you have any idea who's your Watcher these days?"

Worth shook his head.

"Me neither. I know there's somebody there… there has to be… but I have no clue who they are… or where they are." He glanced slowly about the bar… seeking some clue as to who might be watching either Derek or himself. "Let's go!" he suddenly said, and rose, hastily donning his black leather coat and heading for the door.

Derek took one last sip of beer and followed Carl out onto the rain-slick Atlanta street. "What now?"

"Now? Now we walk a few blocks and try to see who's following. Once we discover them… we check for tattoos… and ask some questions." He inclined his head for Derek to follow. The two immortals headed south on Mason Street… aware that someone was Watching.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Paris, the next day

The barge was locked and deserted. But no lock could delay Amanda for long. Quickly she picked the lock and let herself in to the darkened room. She stood within it assessing the evidence she saw and trying to make sense of it. The bed had been slept in… Amanda smiled… the faint odor of sex still permeated the air. Thoughtfully she picked up the sheet from the floor where it had been dropped and placed it in a heap on the bed. They'd been in bed… they'd dressed quickly… Amanda stared at the opened beer bottle on the bar and the soiled clothes discarded on the floor. A damp towel lay nearby… someone had showered, dressed, and then…?

Amanda shook her head. Whoever had been here had left… quickly and with little preparation. They'd not stayed to straighten up. Thoughtfully she crossed to Duncan's safe. She drummed her fingers on the door. She smiled… it might take a few minutes… but she thought she could get it open. Expertly she sanded her fingertips… it had been a while, but like riding a bicycle she was certain she'd have no troubles. Once she heard the tumblers click and she opened the door of the safe… she discovered little there. Duncan had always kept an emergency stash of money and spare passports and documents in there for years. Now there was nothing. At least nothing that told Amanda he'd be back anytime soon.

Pulling out a pad of paper, she wrote him a cryptic note and placed it in the safe. "Call me!" was all it said. He'd recognize her handwriting. Amanda closed and re-locked the safe. Duncan had obviously been here with enough time to plan a departure… but not enough time to clean up the place. It also meant that he likely wouldn't be back here… Not anytime soon. Still… if he was… the note would let him know she had come looking for him.

As she paced about the barge… Amanda noticed a cell phone lying discarded under a chair, as if it had fallen from a pocket unseen and had been left behind. She picked it up. Pulling out her own, she dialed Duncan's number… the found cell phone began to vibrate. Amanda shut her phone off and pocketed both phones. No wonder he hadn't answered… he'd left his cell… Had he even realized that yet? She'd take his with her. Perhaps if someone attempted to call him… she might learn something about what he was up to… or if he called his cell… she could talk to him.

Glancing through the porthole Amanda took notice of the Watcher perched obviously on the wall at street level. He'd been there when she'd arrived. She needed to be certain she lost him… but not yet. It might be better to just let him follow her for a while… that way… when she needed to lose him… she could.

Was there any reason to continue searching here? Amanda shook her head. No… if Duncan had taken his passports… he was gone and she doubted from the looks of the place that he'd gone alone. Perhaps she should check with Joe. Duncan had told her Joe was retired from the Watchers… but Amanda felt he might still know where MacLeod was if anyone did.

Her mind made up… Amanda replaced her sunglasses, locked the barge, and headed for her vehicle. Next stop… _Le Blues Bar_.

"As I live and breathe," laughed Joe as he looked up at the immortal gracing his bar, "Amanda!" He was open but the place was deserted this time of day. His band would arrive within the hour to practice… and after that the regular crowd would start arriving.

Joe stepped out from behind the bar and gave the slender Amanda a warm hug and a brief kiss. "I've missed you hanging about and causing trouble. All Mac would say was that you were busy."

"I am. I saw him several times. We stayed in touch. He never told you?" Amanda wiped her lipstick from Joe's mouth with a teasing smile. She was genuinely fond of the old Watcher.

"He told me, but he'd never say just where you were or where you two went whenever you got together."

"Oh… here and there… mostly there." Amanda evaded and settled silkily on a barstool. "How about a drink?" she murmured, removing her sunglasses and loosening the scarf she wore over her dark hair.

"The old immortal evasion," Joe laughed as he poured her a drink from behind the bar. "Why does that not surprise me. Still, you look great."

Amanda shrugged. "Thanks. We were supposed to meet up a few days ago and he didn't arrive… I wondered if he'd said anything to you…" She was fishing… and she knew Joe knew it… but it couldn't be helped.

Joe glanced at her, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "In Cannes?" he finally asked.

Amanda's mouth turned up slightly. "Cannes? Oh yes… Cannes." She sipped at her drink, then licked her lips thoughtfully trying to remember what Duncan had been saying during that phone call. She'd been so upset about Nestor… but he'd said something about getting _back_ to Paris hadn't he. He'd come back… but then… _what_?

Joe continued to watch Amanda, deciding she obviously had not known just where Mac had been going. "So… he's due back in about a week, I think."

Amanda smiled. "A week… That sounds about right. I need to go," Amanda said suddenly, replacing her sunglasses and adjusting her scarf. She blew Joe a kiss as she headed for the door.

"You can trust me Amanda… If you need help with something… you _can_ trust me."

Amanda paused and turned back. Her voice was level in sincerity. "I know that Joe. If I needed some help… I'd ask. _Ciao_!" She turned and vanished into the afternoon sunlight of the outside street.

Watching her go, Joe felt that he was on the outside looking in once more. They were immortal. Whatever they had going on might take years to unfold… years he no longer had. Joe settled onto the barstool and gently picked up Amanda's unfinished drink. "I'm here if you need me," he said to no one in particular. "I'm here if you need me." He finished her drink and then threw the glass at the far wall.

Amanda carefully led the Watcher on her tail on a wild goose chase about Paris… seeming to shop and shop and shop… but without really buying anything. Finally, confident he was alone, and that she could safely vanish without his being aware of it for a few minutes, she slipped out of one store through a side door and reclaimed the SUV. Making certain no one was on her tail, she eventually headed east. There was nothing in Paris for her. Whatever had happened to Duncan… wherever he'd gone in such a hurry, he'd told no one… not even Joe. She'd have to wait until he contacted her… it was all she could do. That and keep an eye on Nick for all of them… making certain he was safe.

"Whatdaya mean … ya lost her!" the voice on the phone exploded.

"I'm sorry, sir. I only picked her up by accident when she showed up at MacLeod's. She went to see Dawson… was only there a few minutes… then an afternoon of shopping. I lost her in the crowd."

"Ya shoulda called for backup!" The voice was growing increasingly short-tempered.

"I did sir… but we didn't make connections in time. By the time Gary was in position… she'd vanished."

"Where are you now?"

"Back at MacLeod's. He must have come here straight from Cannes… but he was gone by the time I got here. I can search his place…"

"No… stay out of there. We wait. We've waited this long… We can wait some more." There was a _click_ and the connection was broken.

****

Atlanta

The Watcher, claiming his name was John Franklin, whimpered in the chair, his hands bound behind him. "Honestly… I don't know what you mean."

Carl Robinson leaned in very close. Sweat poured from his face and dripped onto Franklin's face, mingling with his own sick-smelling sweat. "I think you know exactly what I mean. You and your friends Watch me and my friends. Now… one more time… one of us was at Mt. Hope/ Greenlawn Cemetery yesterday, and was attacked. I want to know by whom and I want to know why."

"I don't know who you mean. I Watch you… no one else. Please Mr. Robinson… I have a wife… children."

"All the more reason to do as I ask." Carl held out a cell phone. "What number should I dial… You can talk to your superiors… find out who the immortal was… and what happened to him… now."

Behind him, Derek Worth looked on uncomfortably. Carl was one of the good guys, but he did have a heavy hand sometimes. This was not quite the way Derek would have gone about this.

A sound outside made the young immortal look around suspiciously. "Carl I thought I heard…"

Glass shattered as something was tossed through the window and exploded. Noxious gas filled the room. Derek, Carl and John Franklin coughed and gasped for breath, their eyes watering. Carl attempted to draw his saber, but dropped it as his lungs strained in the attempt to breathe. Derek slipped silently to the floor. John Franklin gasped and heaved as he struggled helplessly in the chair. Eventually, all three slumped unconscious.

Four men entered the room wearing gas masks. They gathered the bodies of the immortals and left. John Franklin's body they left behind. He was truly dead… and was of no use to them.


	15. Chapter 14

Okay... I've been posting this story more slowly as I still have some writing to do on later parts of the story… as well as some editing and tweaking that needs to be done on upcoming chapters. However… due to the requests… I am posting an extra one today. Once I'm further along on this one… I hope to begin offering extra chapters at least every other day. I was able to do that before… as the stories were finished. This time… laughs and shakes head I am _still _writing this monster! Without further _adieu_… a bonus for today. **_elle_**

Chapter 14

Paris, April 2008

Amy Meyers settled uncomfortably into the chair and tried to look interested in learning why it was the entire library staff was being called together in an after-hours meeting. Amy would much rather have been on her way home. Things within the Watchers had been getting increasingly secretive and strained in the past two years. The new Council seemed to be slowly altering the directives of the previous Council… and returning to the stricter rules which had governed the millennia-old organization for much of its existence. And… the secretive nature of many operatives was back.

She had spent her time keeping her head down and meekly collating information as it became available on the history and whereabouts of certain immortals. Her main focus in the past few years had been on her personal life… her marriage to Burt… and the fiction that she was merely an historical researcher for a private foundation. He seemed satisfied… he'd even been to a few family functions… ones where their real work was never mentioned, but which allowed their families to have some sense of who their spouses worked with. It was all a glorious lie!

Amy hated keeping silent about this aspect of her life with Burt. But Joe had been right in his assessment of her husband's ability to handle the truth. The Council had agreed. Burt Meyers would likely want to be too involved in what he saw. Faced with their agreement with Joe's assessment, Amy had decided to marry Burt… and to remain within the Watchers. She still hoped that eventually Methos would re-surface, and that she'd be allowed to work on his Chronicle once more. But unlike Joe, who had made the Watchers his entire life, Amy had made the decision to have a life… rather than live in the hope that the immortal she was most interested in… would ever re-appear or that she would be granted access to his files once more. Instead… she worked quietly on what she was told… and kept her eyes and her ears open.

Amy had a near photographic memory… a fact not in her profile… and she used it to her advantage. Although her superiors kept shifting her from area to area within the library… working on seemingly unrelated historical documents… Amy had begun to sense a pattern in what she was seeing. She had not yet mentioned it to Joe… feeling it might be better to watch and wait… until she really knew something… instead of merely suspecting something.

So she was here for this meeting… although she was tired and much more eager to go home… put her feet up… spend the evening with Burt… before he headed out to his club. Their schedules did not allow too much time together… and she had found she was increasingly jealous of demands on that time, whether they came from her work… or from his.

"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Madeline Miller whispered as she settled into the next chair.

"Not a clue," nodded Amy, as she shifted uncomfortably in the chair. It had a barrel-shaped armature and was not at all suited for a pregnant woman in her third tri-mester. But… there was nothing else for her to sit in.

"Well I heard something about some of us being re-assigned. If so… I'm hoping for a field job." Madeline was much younger and had been a Watcher for only four years. She was daughter and granddaughter of Watchers. Amy knew Madeline aspired to Chronicle someone as fascinating as the immortals her father and grandfather had once watched.

"It's not always easy Watching some of them," Amy shared with the young woman. "I know… I saw things sometimes that made my skin crawl."

Madeline's eyes opened wider. "Like what?" The young woman leaned in to hear the juicy details but before Amy could tell her anything, Georges Flammel called the meeting to order.

"Ladies and gentlemen… your attention please. I have the honor of presenting Henry Rawlins… our new Western Europe Regional Coordinator." Polite applause followed as the tall blonde, fair-skinned man stepped forward with a slight bow and a confident expression on his hawk-like face. His clear blue eyes carefully regarded the assembled librarians. He had work for them to do… important work… work that would assure the Watchers' continued existence. Slowly and carefully he began to outline his plans for them for the next few decades.

By the time Amy got home, Burt had left for the club. That was likely for the best. She was in no mood right now for cuddling with Burt and pretending everything was fine. No… what she wanted most was to talk to Joe. But Amy had a feeling they were all being watched. No… if she ran to Joe… they'd know and her usefulness to them would be at an end. But she needed to tell him.

Glancing at the phone she considered calling him. He'd be at _Le Blues Bar_ now… perhaps playing his guitar and entertaining his patrons. No… now was not the time. Besides… Amy had a suspicion that both her phone and his might be tapped. His previous mutinous behavior was still known to her superiors. It was important that she seem to go along with the plans of the new regime in power. Otherwise… Amy rubbed one hand over her swelling abdomen… protecting the twins… protecting Burt… was far more important than anything else.

She would need to tell Joe something… but she'd have to wait until their regular weekly luncheon… in three days. Amy knew it would be a long three days. But to move any faster might mean that she was condemning them all to death… her father, her husband, her children, and herself. Amy could not take that chance.

"Patience," she whispered to the empty room. "Patience." The teakettle whistled and Amy headed to the kitchen to make a cup of herb tea.

The outdoor cafe was one of their favorite luncheon spots. Joe settled into an iron bistro chair within the low-walled garden area of the small cafe… accepted his menu and ordered water for both of them.

He glanced around. Amy was running late evidently. Other than the brief but warm call yesterday evening to be certain they were still on for lunch… Joe hadn't spoken to Amy much in the last week. If he didn't know better… he'd have thought she was pulling away.

Just then he saw Amy alight from a cab, give him a wave, and start in his direction. Once she arrived she leaned over to kiss his cheek and whispered, "We need to talk… not here… not now." She smiled and sat down chatting inanely about her last checkup and how everything was fine.

Joe's eyes momentarily narrowed… and then he relaxed back in his seat with a toothy grin and just listened. His mind was a whirl with implications. Something was up inside the Watchers and Amy feared surveillance. Well, the old Watcher thought, two can play that game. He was an old hand at looking innocuous when he needed to be. For twelve years he had shadowed Duncan MacLeod quite closely at times… and he'd never noticed him… not until the day he'd walked into the bookstore with the missing Chronicle in his hand. Had it not been for Horton's people messing up their surveillance… MacLeod still might not have given his Watcher a second glance.

So Joe and Amy ordered… they talked… they laughed. Joe paid the check and suggested a walk. He took Amy's arm with his free hand and together they slowly made their way down the street. At an intersection, Joe casually looked around while they waited and noted their tail. The man quickly turned to stare in a window.

Joe leaned his head close to Amy's and appeared to laugh, telling her a joke… but his words were different. "What's up darlin'… I see our little shadow back there."

"I think the new Council may have re-approved the Sanctuary Project."

The light changed. They slowly crossed the street.

"They know that was a mistake. They wouldn't dare start it up again."

"The new regional director said something about changes being implemented to assure that the game would continue."

Joe thought for a moment. In the aftermath of Jacob Kell's decimation of the Sanctuaries… it had been decided that the Watcher's would return to covert surveillance only. They would no longer interfere in the lives of the immortals for any reason. Of course, that had become difficult once Peter Taylor had begun attacking Watchers. And then there had been Nestor. Without Joe's and Amy's help in that that matter… that ancient evil might still be in the world. Had it been then that things had begun to change? Joe had been drummed out… that had not surprised him… and Amy censured and re-assigned… but even that had made some sense.

Laughingly he leaned in once more, "Who's the new director?"

"Henry Rawlins… do you know him?"

Joe did. Rawlins had been recruited into the Watchers in the mid-nineties. He'd done his time within the library and then had been assigned to Watch Amanda about the year 2000. After Amanda had vanished… he'd been re-assigned to Watch MacLeod in the wake of Joe's forced retirement. Rawlins had been circumspect in his activities… He'd also re-introduced the team concept so that an immortal was always Watched… even if his primary Watcher had to attend to personal business. A concept Joe had used on MacLeod to some extent before he and Mac had gotten to know one another.

"Rawlins is a good man," Joe murmured. "At least he was. He's been in the bar a few times when MacLeod was there… but he never made a scene or garnered any attention on Mac's part."

"Well, for the last year or so… he's been promoted ahead of others. He wants the library staff to start compiling some data… some old records he came across… and start formulating more complete bios and profiles of the immortals who remain."

"Into one place… like the database?"

They'd reached the gardens by this time and found a bench upon which to sit. Amy leaned in closly to Joe and continued to whisper… all the while punctuating her words with laughter as if they were speaking of mundane things… or the upcoming birth of the twins. "The database, as you often said, gives only a brief outline. Rawlins wants everything we know about an immortal gathered into one area so that each team of Watchers will have a complete record of their assignment in one easy to study electronic Chronicle. No more translating old texts as the need arises."

Joe leaned back on the bench thoughtfully fingering his cane. "That doesn't sound ominous."

"He also mentioned how in the last few years the number of immortals has dropped suddenly."

Joe's eyes widened a bit and he nodded. "The onset of the Gathering. We spoke of that even when I was still active."

"Rawlins mentioned that there are no new immortals being born. The few new immortals who have become active in the past twenty years all have one thing in common."

Joe stared quizzically at his daughter.

"They were all born before December 1985." Amy leaned back in the bench… staring out at the children at play… a wistful expression on her face. "They are dying, Joe. They are killing one another… and no more are being born to take their place. Rawlins wants to keep the game going somehow."

Joe laughed. "Medical science has come a long way. People don't die as often or as early as they did. There could be children out there now who carry the immortal potential… ones we have no clue about and probably won't for years."

"Joe…" Amy said levelly. "All the new immortals… the ones who do appear… are all older. Rawlins thinks that means that once the last of them becomes immortal… the final Gathering will commence. Already the numbers are dropping. In the last few years… so many have died that the records cite less than one hundred active immortals left… and that includes some like our friend '_the doctor_' who have merely vanished."

__

1985? What had happened in that year? Joe tried to think back. The only event that really stood out in his mind was MacLeod and Tessa deciding to move to the states from Paris. Joe had been focused on that move… on changing his own lifestyle and living arrangements so that he could continue to watch the Highlander. After centuries of being a wanderer… Duncan MacLeod had settled down to a fairly stable life with the young French sculptor Tessa Noel. For the most part… he'd seemed out of the game for a number of years… until Connor MacLeod had come to town.

Startled… Joe let a curse drop, "Damn… the Kurgan! 1985 was when Connor MacLeod fought the Kurgan. His Watcher said Connor made some comment about that being the end of things… despite knowing there were others still out there."

"That's what Rawlins said," Amy nodded. "He believes that fight… may have changed things somehow."

"But that doesn't mean that there were no more foundlings!" Joe began and then stopped. He had met the boy Derrick in 2003… a ten year old, whom Mac had said was pre-immortal. If Rawlins was right… what about Derrick? Or had Mac and the others been mistaken. The boy had been something special… what was it Methos had said about him… _Reborn_? Joe smiled at Amy, there was no way he was going to break that confidence… no way… not without knowing more. "It's getting chilly… you need to go home." He leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Stay safe baby… play it cool and tell me what you can when you can."

Amy nodded.

Later, after he'd returned by cab to _Le Blues Bar_, Joe stared at his safe and wondered if his journals were safe. _Damn Mac! Where are you?_ he wondered. Mac had not returned from Cannes last February as expected. Joe had heard nothing from his immortal friend. He'd called him a few times… but had only gotten a voice recording to leave a message. Now… even that didn't happen. The account had been closed.

Joe wondered if Amanda had found Mac. He wondered if the Watchers knew where she was… or had she vanished again as well. Damn! Joe Dawson hated not knowing what was going on.


	16. Chapter 15

****

Chapter 15

Scotland, December 2009

Eleanor closed the corral gate and stuffed her gloved hands deep into the pockets of her heavy mackinaw. Her breath appeared in the freezing air before her in small clouds of mist. She shivered. "Have you ever known it to be so cold?"

As he finished breaking the layer of ice and adding fresh water to the trough for the horses, Methos climbed up on to the fence and swung his legs over to land solidly on the frozen earth beside her. "Not recently," he said swinging his long arms about as he hit them with his palms and stamped his feet.

The winter had come on quickly and harshly in the past week. There was even a threat of snow in the cold air. From here, Methos could see the smoke rising from the farmhouse. Derrick was in there reading. The boy had seemed depressed in recent weeks, but each time Methos had tried to figure out what was going on with the sixteen-year-old, the boy had simply shrugged and re-buffed the advance.

Things had been going pretty well between them for the past year. About once a week the two of them had taken off to town and ended up in some secluded glade where the immortal had begun teaching Derrick some martial arts moves. The boy was a quick study. He'd picked up several of the more complex moves almost as if he'd once used them.

Methos had said nothing, biding his time… trying to openly answer the boy's questions about his life and Eleanor's. The immortal kept waiting for the boy to ask the questions Methos knew had to be on Derrick's mind… about his own status, about the sword, about the crystal, about that bloody computer game… but the boy never did. It was as if he was waiting for something… and Methos had no idea what that something was.

So the waiting game continued.

If Eleanor had noticed anything different about Derrick in the past few months, she had yet to say anything directly to Methos. Instead, she seemed to be a calm presence between them whenever the growing boy's recent antagonism and Methos' own suspicions and anger had threatened to spill over into their lives here. When Derrick and Methos… Adam… were alone… they were fine. Adam, as if he were the boy's big brother, taught the youngster, joked with him, shared moments of his past… whatever he thought he might need to do in an attempt to learn what Derrick might or might not know.

Methos was increasingly certain that Derrick was "Reborn" as the Ancient had once termed it… but if he was… would those memories the boy sometimes seemed to have, vanish once he became immortal? And if Derrick did suspect his latent immortality… would it even be triggered when he died? Methos feared what would happen to the boy once his time arrived. He also feared how Eleanor would take it if the boy were lost… or if those memories would even be unlocked if he became immortal too soon, or in the shock of his violent death.

Derrick's eyes followed his sister, as he still seemed to regard her, whenever she was present. He gazed sadly at her behind her back… so much so that Methos had begun to fear what might happen once the boy was grown. Eleanor, if he mentioned this to her, would laugh as if Methos could ever believe she would change her mind. "He's a little boy," she'd say, holding Methos tightly in her embrace within their bed. "Whatever happens… changes nothing."

So Methos pushed. Hoping by spending time alone with Derrick, he could learn exactly what it was the boy seemed to almost remember… learn and make a note of it, just in case Derrick forgot everything in years to come.

Today, had been one of those days that parents of teenagers must truly despair. Methos had reminded the boy that the horses needed care… especially on such a cold and snowy day. Derrick had pointedly stuck his nose in a book and mumbled something about getting around to it. That had been hours ago. When Methos had reminded Derirck once more… Eleanor had suddenly decided she needed some fresh air… and out here she'd come… ready to take care of the horses. Grumbling and casting harsh words at the boy… who had merely slunk lower in the couch… his lanky legs propped over the sofa arm… his nose buried in the book… Methos had grabbed his own coat and followed Eleanor out. Anything to avoid an open argument!

Eleanor suddenly put her gloved hands over his bare ears with a teasing grin. "Forgot your hat… You were in such a hurry to join me out here… you forgot your hat! Let's hope those ears of yours don't fall off."

He reached out to pull her close to give her a kiss. He pulled her woolen scarf from over her mouth with his teeth and planted his cold lips on her warm ones. She giggled. "It's too cold out here for this.

Methos grinned as he unbuttoned his coat and pulled her close… wrapping his coat around them both. "Let me keep you warm," he breathed into her ear… wishing it weren't quite so cold. Wishing that they could just slip into the barn for a few hours and forget everything else.

The sounds of several engines carried over the frosty air.

Methos looked up. "Who could be out on such a day?" he groused… hating the possible interruption. On the top of the nearby hill… three men on those three-wheeled off-road vehicles that were so popular, came into view. "Bother… looks like company," he said letting Eleanor pull back so that he could re-button his coat. She quickly rearranged her woolen scarf over her head and about her face. Methos turned up his collar… wishing he'd thought about a hat. Then he felt it.

One of the three men riding down the slope was an immortal.

"Go inside," Eleanor said, suddenly serious.

"I'm not leaving you out here," Methos insisted.

"If we feel him… then he feels at least one of us. Go inside."

Methos shook his head.

"Edward… listen to me… It may be nothing. He may simply nod and pass on by… especially as there are two mortals with him."

"And they might take advantage of you."

"Get in the house now." Eleanor's voice rose in pitch and he could see the determination in her eyes. "If one of those mortals is his Watcher… who will he recognize? Certainly not me. Besides… do you have your sword with you?"

Methos lowered his head. In his haste to follow her out… he hadn't considered needing it.

"I have my knife. Trust me. I do know how to defend myself. And you can always come running if you need to. Go in the house."

Methos backed away and headed into the house… reluctant to leave her… but aware she was likely right. She could defend herself. Long ago she'd learned to deal with men who pawed at her or hoped for more. But if there was a Watcher with this immortal… he might recognize Methos… and then they'd have to move on. Methos wasn't ready to move on. Not yet.

He slammed the door as he entered the farmhouse and then turned to gaze nervously out the window as the three off-roaders came to a stop near Eleanor. From this distance he couldn't even feel her. Surely he would be unfelt in here… but… he didn't feel good about this.

Derrick came to stand beside him. "What's up Adam? Is there something wrong?" The boy's blue eyes stared at him levelly.

Methos pulled back from the window and met Derrick's gaze. He smiled.

As the three men surrounded her, Eleanor shrugged in a warm-up and fingered her knife through the opening she'd put in the jacket so she could appear to merely have her hands in her pockets. She'd practiced this move… pulling the knife and twirling to use it effectively… but maybe it wouldn't be necessary.

The three men gunned their engines menacingly… and then shut them off. Eleanor stared at the immortal evenly.

Beneath his flapped hat and above his scarf… she could tell very little about him… other than that he was apprising her carefully. "Afternoon, ma'am," he finally said in American-accented English.

Eleanor nodded. "Tis quite cold to be out on such a day… especially on those things." She gave it her best Scots accent.

The three men laughed. The immortal continued, "Yes… well it got cold on us rather quickly… and we appear to be lost. Saw your smoke and thought we'd come this way to get some directions."

One of the other men laughed raucously. The immortal shot him a sharp glance. The man seemed cowed by whatever that glance from his companion meant.

Eleanor continued her warm-up. She kept her face pleasant and made certain none of her fears or suspicions showed in her eyes. "Where are you gentlemen headed?"

The strange immortal was just opening his mouth to tell her when she felt someone come to stand beside her. Glancing over, Eleanor saw Derrick wearing Methos' coat, his head covered with a flapped hat and a shotgun in his hands. Slowly he cocked it… but kept it easy… ready to be used if necessary.

The strange immortal slapped his hands together as his eyes twinkled in sudden understanding. He winked at her. "Oh… I see you are not alone."

"Of course not," Eleanor said. "Now if you'll tell me where you're bound for… I'll be glad to tell you how to go." She met his eyes… betraying none of the anger she now felt.

Information exchanged, the immortal saluted mockingly as if to say he'd be back, and the three men roared up the hillside and away into the frozen landscape.

Eleanor turned, grabbing the shotgun from Derrick's hands. "What in the world did you think you were doing? You could have been killed!"

The boy mumbled something about Methos not wanting her to be alone even as Eleanor stomped back to the house. She was nearly there when she realized Derrick had said Methos. She paused. "What did you say?"

Derrick shrugged within Methos' coat. "Adam didn't want you out here alone. Since they'd likely seen him… he figured it would look like he just came in for the shotgun. He said one was an immortal and that he didn't want to precipitate a challenge."

Eleanor eyed him calmly, then turned swiftly to enter the house. She tossed the shotgun to Methos and glared at him.

"I was improvising," he said softly. "It looked like you might need some back-up."

"Can you not trust me!" she let her voice rise in volume. "I have lived over eleven hundred years and I know how to handle the likes of them. What if Derrick had been killed!" Eleanor pointed in the direction the men had gone.

"They may be back." Derrick offered quietly. "There was something in the way that one man looked at us that worried me."

Methos nodded. He set the shotgun down and grabbed his broadsword. "I'll follow at a distance to be certain they don't circle back."

"I can do it," offered Derrick.

"No!" Methos began donning his outerwear as he prepared to follow. "Eleanor's right… we can't risk anything happening to you. This is best handled by one of us." He slipped his broadsword into his coat, pulled on the hat and adjusted the gloves.

"I'm coming too!" Eleanor said. "Give me a few minutes to change from this dress into more suitable attire. Derrick… go saddle the horses."

Derrick grabbed his own coat but was stopped by Methos. The immortal turned his gaze upon Eleanor. "And if they get past me and circle back… Would you leave Derrick here unprotected?" His words hit their mark as Eleanor's eyes closed. "You know he'll kill him."

Eleanor nodded as she removed her mackinaw and flung it into a corner. Methos could tell there was a greenish blaze in her eyes. He reached for her and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful. I just need to be certain they are truly gone. As it is… we'll likely have to leave here. Start packing what we'll need… just in case." He kissed her, taking the time to kiss the tears brimming in her eyes.

"Come back to me," she whispered. He could feel the bond flare awake as his fingers touched the faint scars on her neck where they had completed the unity bond years ago. She would be with him. She would know what he knew… She would know if he failed. Methos held her close for a long moment, breathing in the honeyed scent of her, then released her as he turned to leave. Squeezing Derrick's arm with a smile as he passed him, Methos tried to let him know how he felt… how much he wanted Derrick to be safe. And then he was gone.


	17. Chapter 16

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Chapter 16

After Methos left… Eleanor settled before the fire… gazing into the flames with a solemn expression. She seemed oblivious to their surroundings.

"Shouldn't we do as he said… pack?" Derrick asked morosely behind her.

"I am packed… I'm always packed and ready to go," she murmured softly, rubbing her arms against the chill.

"This is all _my_ fault," continued Derrick sadly. "It's _all_ my fault. If I'd taken care of the horses earlier… this wouldn't have happened."

Eleanor continued to rub her hands over her arms, then sat back, gazing at him intently. "This is not your fault. You didn't bring those men here. They would have come and the immortal would have found us no matter what you'd done. If it had been you out there alone… he might have killed you for sport."

Derrick closed his eyes. "Would it have mattered?" he finally asked softly.

Eleanor gazed intently at the boy, wondering if he were finally ready to speak of his inner turmoil. "Of course it matters… It matters to me," she offered softly. "Each life is important… mortal or immortal… and there is never enough time for any of us. I would have you live to finish growing up so that you could make your own way in the world."

Derrick met her gaze. She smiled and continued. "Derrick… whatever the fates have in store for you… I wish you a long life filled with joy. The only thing Adam and I are doing… is making certain you have that chance. I love you." She reached out to cup his chin in her small hand. "You will always be in my heart. Now go pack what you think you'll need if we have to leave here. And promise me… if those men return… you will not become involved in what might happen. Your life is far too precious to me for you to risk it."

The boy nodded sadly, then rose to enter his room. When he reached the door, Derrick looked back at Ellie, staring once more into the fire, her eyes slightly unfocused, her hands rubbing the long sleeves of her simple dress. She was not here… not really.

If Derrick's life had gone as it should… he would not have known her for the last ten years… he would have been safely raised by his adoptive family… the ones whose murder he had witnessed while still very young… If that had not happened, he would still be just a sixteen-year old boy, oblivious of so much more. Derrick knew he would not have recalled some of the memories of those within if he hadn't happened into the immortals and their lives. He shouldn't have remembered anything until he was grown, but other events had interfered… and she had found him… and cared for him… and the memories had stirred. Ellie was right… Derrick still needed time to grow up… but it was sometimes so very hard to both remember… and not remember the events and choices of another life. Events and memories that confused him more and more… as the days passed.

He turned to gather his things… the sword, the crystal and the computer. Was there anything else he would need? Was there anything here that he would miss if they left? What would it be like to see the outside world once more… to travel to distant lands… to meet new people… to hear the roar of the ocean waves breaking on the sandy shore… and the sounds of gulls calling? Derrick closed his eyes and visualized the ocean… glittering in sunlight. He wondered if they were his desires… or those of the others that he was feeling.

Methos pulled up sharply on the reins of his horse as he peered intently into the darkness. He could see the flickering of a campfire in the distance, where none should be. Alighting, he crept closer cautiously… attempting to get near enough to see who it was and overhear them… but not so close as to be sensed by the immortal if he were here. Once certain it was the men he sought, he hunkered down in the brush, straining to hear their conversation.

The three men were drinking… and their conversation worried the immortal.

"I still don't see why we didn't just do as we'd planned. Rob them, rape her, beat the boy and go," one man said.

Another sputtered, "Or rob them, rape the boy, and beat the woman."

Laughter erupted between the two mortals.

The immortal leaned forward on his elbows and sneered. "I say who and I say when."

"Dammit Craig!" one of the men replied, "Why do we always have to listen to you? We were doing just fine before you came along!"

Craig leapt across the fire and pounded the mortal to his knees. "Because I'm the only one with brains in this group." He continued to rain blows on the man until finally dragged off of him by the remaining man.

"Easy Craig… we're drunk… and just mouthing off. You're the boss, mate. We do as you say," the man offered platitudes, evidently hoping to calm the immortal.

Methos narrowed his eyes. _Did the mortals know of immortality? Was one a Watcher? How could he tell?_ The ancient shifted in the brush slightly to work a small cramp from one leg.

Craig shrugged the man off, "Leave me be, Bruce. You two are fools and would have been caught by the authorities for your thieving ways if I hadn't found you a few weeks ago."

The beaten man groaned, sitting up and, with one gloved hand, wiped blood from his face. "Sorry man… or was it even what I said? You were hot to trot down there until that boy showed up with the shotgun. Why'd you warn us off?"

Craig stormed to the edge of the clearing to relieve himself. "I had my reasons."

Methos smiled. _They don't know… neither of them. You just met them… You are using them… and you plan to come back… maybe alone. _His smile widened. He and Eleanor and Derrick would be gone before that could happen. He rose slightly into a crouch to back away. A branch snapped under his feet. He froze.

Craig's head snapped up as he took three steps toward the sound. He could just barely feel the other immortal as he knew the other could now feel him. Perhaps the woman had followed them. Craig leered into the darkness, licking his lips at the thought of what he could do to her.

"Wait here… I'm going to check that out," he tossed over his shoulder as shrugged slightly within his coat… obviously loosening up for either a battle or a bit of fun.

"It was just the fire crackling," said Bruce. "Stay here… in the light."

"No… I better check this out myself," Craig snapped and headed into the darkness toward the still crouching Methos.

Methos continued to back away… seeking level ground… seeking the best location for the fight he now knew he likely could not avoid. Craig already sensed him… likely thinking it was Eleanor. Whether they fought or not… and Methos felt that the fight was a foregone conclusion, he could not leave this immortal to continue on his way. He needed to face him and end this now. And as for the two mortals? The further away Methos led Craig… the less chance they would see anything. Without Craig's leadership… they'd likely be arrested before much longer. But if they were too close? What if they saw something?

Methos turned and sped swiftly through the darkness… stopping occasionally to be certain Craig was still on his tail. Leading his horse… rather than riding… he drew Craig further and further into the dark frozen landscape. About him… snow had begun to fall in huge flakes.

Finally reaching another clearing… Methos shooed the horse out of his way and crouched down into the center… his broadsword in his hands… hiding both it and his size from the first glance of the immortal. Strangely… for a moment… Methos felt Eleanor's presence, just behind him… over his shoulder. He focused on her a moment and felt her smile… he smiled back… then he broke the link… severing it so that he could concentrate on the task at hand. He did not know this immortal… he had not heard of him during the years he had last been in Watchers. Methos had no idea who he was… how powerful he was… how good he was. Methos, despite sparring with Eleanor and practicing with Derrick knew that he was not at his best. Once more he'd become complacent… living in the dream of a time and place that seemed to exist outside of reality. Well no more! There would have to be changes made once he'd dealt with Craig… All three of them needed to be more aware and prepared for others who might stumble on them… wherever the three of them went.

Methos cleared his mind of all else and concentrated on the man who now stood at the edge of the clearing.

"Anxious to see me again, pet?" Craig's voice rang out with a mocking tone. "Eager to have a real man around… and not some sniveling boy!" He moved forward. Methos could see light gleam on Craig's cavalry saber. Immediately, the ancient adjusted his plan of attack to meet with that particular blade and style of fighting. "Oh my pet… do you really think you can take me? I'll have you and then I'll have the boy!"

"Do you think so?" Methos stood as Craig neared his position. "Do you really think so?"

Craig halted and seemed to peer at Methos' showed form. "Boy? Is that you? Did she turn you and send you out to meet me?"

"I… am no boy!" Methos smirked and raised his broadsword in an opening move… waiting.

For the first time in many years, Craig felt uncertain of his own abilities. He'd been a bully and a thief all his life… and immortality had just been another way to continue his chosen occupation. Despite the bitter cold, he licked his lips… feeling the sting of the icy wind. In a voice that sounded far more confident than he felt… he called out, "Then bring it on… I await your pleasure." He raised his saber to be ready to slash at his opponent.

Eleanor shifted at the fire and listened carefully. Outside she could here the slow steps of a horse. Racing to the window she peered at the shadowy figure dismounting and then entering the barn evidently to unsaddle the animal. She stepped back thoughtfully.

For several hours she'd felt nothing. Not since Methos had sent that one brief acknowledgment of her presence with him and then shut her out. She still felt nothing from him.

"Is he back?" Derrick called from behind her.

"I think so…" Eleanor thoughtfully reached for her coat, pulling it on as she fingered the short knife hidden in the lining of one pocket. "Wait here… don't come out… no matter what." She gave Derrick a meaningful look. The boy nodded reluctantly. Wrapping her woolen scarf about her head and face, Eleanor headed to the barn… a lantern in her hand.

When she opened the barn door, she could just make out Methos brushing down the horse with a measured stroke. He said nothing.

Eleanor hung the lantern on a nail and crossed to his side. "I was worried."

"Were you?" Methos continued to brush the horse methodically. His voice was flat.

Eleanor reached out to touch his arm. "Yes… I was."

"Why?"

Eleanor wrinkled her brow in confusion. _Something's wrong_! she thought. "Methos?" she asked as she rubbed her gloved hand on his arm. "What is it?"

Methos turned as if only noticing her now for the first time. His eyes traveled up and down her slight form and a lop-sided sneer crossed his face. "Oh… everything and nothing," he said with a bitter laugh.

Eleanor backed away from him. Dropping the brush, Methos reached for her suddenly and crushed her to him, roughly kissing her. Eleanor struggled to be free, but her struggle only made him tighten his grip on her arms until she knew they were bruising. His mouth moved over her face as if he wanted to devour her. When she continued to struggle… he pulled one arm back and let his fist fly into her face.

Eleanor crumpled to the ground, shaking her head at the momentary disorientation. She looked up at his leer as he came at her. One of his hands grabbed at her clothes, ripping them away while the other slapped her face again and again. He pulled her up and then tossed her to a nearby pile of hay and threw himself onto her… grabbing and pulling and biting… focused on one thing.

With one hand still free from his grasp, Eleanor fingered the knife… and then… she made a hard choice and stopped struggling. Instead she attempted to reach him mentally… but was rebuffed again and again from his angry mind… filled only with thoughts of taking her as he had never before dared.

As he finished, the enormity of what he'd just done came on Methos like a ton of bricks. He stared at Eleanor's bruised and swollen face in the pale lantern light. She'd not made a single sound during the entire assault. She met his gaze evenly… as one dead… as one for whom all hope has been extinguished. With a cry of shame… Methos rolled off of her, curling into a ball and shivering in despair, sobs wracked his body.

Eleanor slowly sat up as she wiped her mouth free of blood. Tears stung her eyes and her breathing was ragged. She hurt… and not just physically. Staring at the form of the immortal next to her… she reached blindly for her knife. Turning it over and over in her hands she calmly gazed at his shivering form. His mind was still closed to her. Every instinct told her to kill him and to leave with Derrick before Methos revived. This was not the Methos she knew and loved… this was someone older and far darker. This was someone dangerous. She raised the knife to plunge it into his back.

Then Eleanor paused. She had ridden with him in dreams and knew this side of him. She had known it was there when she'd made her choice and bound her life to his… her fate to his. How could she turn away now? She lowered the knife; then laid it aside. Slowly she scooted up next to his back and pushed at his clothes until her hands could run smoothly over his shuddering back. Eleanor lay next to him… letting her fingers travel over the patterns until one hand reached his neck to ignite the unity bond. She held him close and shifted… ready and open for whatever memory they would share.


	18. Chapter 17

_Okay, bonus for today! By the way... I note that my interior chapter breaks indicating time passing and/ or change of point of view are not showing up. I've tried several different characters... but nothing apparently works. I'm not certain what to do... as without them... there could be some confusion! Suggestions?_ elle

**Chapter 17**

__

**London, 1453**

The boatmen steered the long shallow boat up the Thames. Eleanor relaxed against the seat and grinned at Phillip. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to go anywhere… be anyone else besides Marie… mid-wife to the poor… that it was a treat to be in a place where life and color and warmth permeated everything she saw and felt.

"It's time for a wake, Little Sister. It's been too long!" Phillip had told her when he'd arrived in Paris last week. "Antoninus says it's time and I have to agree with him You are too pale and too thin, and far too serious. Life is to be lived! Tell her Darius." He'd turned then to regard the immortal priest with an open gesture. "Tell her to go… She buries herself here in this city as you do. She is too young for this."

Darius had smiled at her warmly. "Go Eleanor. Have some fun. Enjoy yourself… embrace life once more." In his eyes she still saw the shadow of the plague years they had both endured. But despite the invitation… he refused to join them. Shaking his head he'd said merely, "Somehow I don't think this party is one I'd enjoy. Another time perhaps."

So she and Phillip had left Paris, stopping only long enough to purchase suitable attire for Eleanor in Calais. "Who am I again?" she'd asked, overwhelmed by the trunks of clothes and jewelry that Phillip had purchased for her.

"You are my sister, Ellen. We are on our way to London to see an old friend. I am Phillip, Earl of Madison." He'd bowed deeply, sweeping his soft hat from his head and properly lowering his head as if he were addressing a monarch.

"And the game? And why London?"

"Antoninus has something in mind… something we can only do there. As I had no idea what we might do this time… I await his pleasure." He'd laughed then and swung her about lifting her high into the air as in the popular dance of the day.

Eleanor had squealed… feeling for the first time in years… a delight in life… and an eagerness for what the new day might bring. For too long… even after the Black Death had finally seemed to loosen its death-grip on Paris and, indeed, all of Europe, she had seen only the faces of the survivors… beaten down by death… and living lives of quiet desperation. Not even her close friendship with Darius had eased the darkness that gripped Eleanor's heart. She drifted through life… feeling as if at any moment… Death would return… and with it… the end of light… the end of day… the end of joy.

When Edward… or Antoninus as Phillip still called him… had returned at long last to Paris from his journeys to the far East, and had stopped by for a visit… she had found no joy in his return. He was simply one more immortal in a city where only immortals were doomed to survive. He had not been here… how could he hope to understand what it had been like for them? Phillip had been in Italy… he, at least, had a frame of reference… but Edward's lightheartedness, smirks, and teasing demeanor had served only to alienate her further from him. She didn't know him! Not really! Eleanor wondered if she ever would.

Now she and Phillip sat in the long shallow skiff and watched the river flow by colorfully dressed figures milling about on the green lawns of the spacious estates they passed. Eleanor carefully arranged the heavy velvet of her voluminous skirts and grinned impishly at her mentor and friend. She thought such attire ridiculous. Usually for a wake she dressed as a boy, finding it far easier to keep up with the two of them in whatever madness they devised rather than to be a proper lady. Although she was usually dressed as a peasant woman while in Paris… it had been centuries since Eleanor had thought of herself as a lady. It seemed a part of her mortal life that even now she could barely recall. It had been another world… another life… perhaps it was only a dream.

The skiff turned toward a dock on the shore. Already Eleanor could sense an immortal presence and see the tall slender form of Edward… once her husband, then her teacher… now? What was he now? Eleanor shook her head. She didn't entirely trust him. Beneath her cape… she fingered her short jeweled dirk… the only blade a gentlewoman might safely be seen to carry in public. Even with its short blade… it could be a deadly weapon when wielded by the right hands. Eleanor had yet to have to meet another immortal in combat… although she practiced daily as Phillip had taught her… It was far easier to just fade away and remain on the periphery of the game. Although ready and willing to defend herself… she had in her time in Paris begun to wonder if the game was the only way for her kind to exist. Darius had spoken to her often that there was another way… a way of peace.

"Ahh!" Phillip turned and spread his arms in a great wave. "There he is!" He laughed. If he were at all suspicious of the reasons for this wake… he was not showing them. He wore two swords… one was hers. "If we are stopped… if we meet someone… I'll toss you yours." While not the best solution… it had been the best option for their journey.

The skiff grated along the side of the wharf and came to a stop. Hastily the boatmen secured their oars while one man leaped out to tie off and secure the skiff. Once done… he leaned down to assist Eleanor in her ascent from the craft. Once she was on the dock, Edward bowed with a smile and reached for her offered hand, which he gently kissed, a twinkle in his eye.

"Welcome my Lady to my humble home."

As Phillip climbed to the dock, Edward turned and greeted him as an old friend. Leaving their luggage to be handled by Edward's retainers, the immortals headed across the spacious grounds and up to a large greystone manor house. The staff stood assembled in the courtyard before the main entrance.

Edward cleared his throat. "Lady Grey… may I present your household staff."

Eleanor shot Edward a sharp glance as the staff curtsied and bowed before her. She forced herself to smile and walk past them as if inspecting them. One older woman, handed her the household keys with a warm and respectful smile and a deep curtsey. Eleanor managed a small smile and then returned to stand quietly beside Edward whose face was carefully non-committal. Phillip however, was trying and failing to contain his amusement at her obvious unease.

Edward lifted his hand to her and took hers, bowing slightly, he led her into the house. "I have had a light meal prepared so that you might break your fast from the journey."

"Excellent!" said Phillip.

"Was the crossing calm?" Edward continued.

As Eleanor found herself seated at a linen-clothed table covered with fine china and silver plate, she was silent. The two men joked back and forth… their language drifting into Latin and Greek at times as well as Italian and French. The servants were evidently familiar with their master's use of languages and did not seem to give it another thought.

Listening to the two men… Eleanor discovered they were speaking of nothing important… just small talk between old friends. She on the other hand had nothing to say… at least nothing now… and nothing in front of servants. She continued to hold her tongue while on a tour of the house, but inside… her anger was rising.

After several hours, and a late supper after dark had fallen… the servants retired for the night and the three immortals settled in a wood-paneled library before a roaring fire. Edward poured brandy.

"So what's the game this time?" Phillip asked.

"I've learned of something in the royal treasury… something that belonged to a friend of mine… something I need to get out of there." Edward stood formally before the fire.

"Then steal it," Eleanor spat out. "Why involve us? How is this the game?"

"Ahh…" Edward took a sip of his brandy and looked at her over the rim of the glass. "I cannot do it alone… and I thought it might be interesting to see who comes up with the best plan for getting it."

"What are we stealing?" Phillip chuckled. "Something valuable."

"Only to me," Edward said plainly. "It is a minor thing… it will likely never be missed."

"Then I say we have a go at it… ehh Little Sister?"

Eleanor sipped her brandy and eyed Edward suspiciously. "Why the pretense when we arrived?" she finally asked.

Edward shifted uncomfortably. "I thought Phillip explained." He glanced at his Greek friend.

Phillip chortled into his brandy, "Must have slipped my mind." He downed his drink and bid them goodnight… obviously eager to make an exit.

They let him go. For several moments they were silent. Finally Eleanor spoke up. "What exactly is my role in this little farce you have created."

Edward turned to face the fire. Quietly… so quietly she barely heard him, "You are Lady Ellen Grey… my wife."

Eleanor counted to ten… and then rose and crossed the room to stand beside him. When he turned to face her, she tossed the brandy into his face. "I… am _not_ your wife." Slamming the glass down onto a nearby table she turned to leave.

Edward grabbed her arm. Eleanor twisted to be free and then backed away… her hand on her dirk. "You should not presume on our relationship Edward. It is one thing to be on familiar terms with one another occasionally… it is quite another to assume that a greater relationship still exists."

She turned to leave, surprised when he grabbed at her again. This time she could not twist free. He slammed her against the wall and bent to kiss her… urgently… as if it were important. His hands traveled lightly over her form pulling at the edges of her clothes. His desire for her evident in his urgency… the manners of Lord Grey not apparent in his touch.

Eleanor grasped her dirke and plunged it into his stomach. Startled he backed away. "_I_ did not agree to this." she spat at him as he held one hand over his healing wound, grimacing in pain. "I say _when _and I say _how_." Turning… Eleanor left him and climbed the stairs to the room she'd been shown earlier.

Behind her in the library Edward roared and she could hear the crash of furniture and the shattering of glass. Finally all was silent.

Methos was as angry at her and as he was angry at himself for letting her get to him. Why… even after all these years did he still want Aella in his life. For the last one hundred and twenty-two years while he'd been in the Orient… every face he'd seen… every woman who'd smiled at him… every laugh he'd heard had been her! She had haunted him in a way no woman ever had.

When he'd let her go when she'd first become immortal, he'd thought often of Aella and wondered how she was doing… if she survived. But it was not until after finding her once more in the Black Forest, and then sending her to Paris… that thoughts of her had begun to torment him. He'd started to travel east and then had backtracked… hanging on the edges of Paris to keep an eye on her… eventually leaving and heading south… into Italy and then Africa. On the return swing through Europe in 1280 he'd noted Aella was still in Paris… as was Darius. He'd suggested a wake… and she'd come with him to Greece to meet Phillip. But after the wake… she'd moved on… west, he thought… west. In Greece she had stared at ruins and old scrolls… obsessed with finding something she couldn't describe, running her hands over carvings as if they would reveal themselves to her by her very touch. It was the first time he'd seen this behavior in her… and he wondered at it.

While he'd hoped she'd stay with him or travel with him… he'd let her go once more and gone on to another life, feeling as always that for immortals… once a century to spend time with friends was more than enough. There were still many new things to learn in the world… and knowledge was becoming a rare and precious commodity once again. Teachers and learned men were again held in high regard. Learning was gradually becoming the province of the monasteries and the church no longer. He'd passed through Paris on his way to the Orient… surprised to find her there once more. Evidently his plan to entice Darius out of Paris with her was not working. He'd argued with the priest about the foolishness of remaining in Paris much longer and in allowing Aella to remain there as well. It was an argument they were to have several times over the centuries… and each time, Darius would smile that mysterious smile of his, the one so like the Ancient One who'd been one of Methos' teachers long ago, and murmur only that he had his reasons. As for Eleanor… she came and went of her own accord.

Methos had urged Aella to travel with him.

"I've only just returned here myself. I've just begun a life… Next time," and she blew him a kiss. Her laughter so like tinkling bells had followed him during the intervening years, but when he'd finally returned… it was to a pale and somber Aella… who had no spark and no joy left in her… and no time for him. She worked as a mid-wife to the poor, unceasingly attempting to bring fresh life into a world that seemed dreary and gray.

"The plague was very bad here in Europe," Phillip had tried to explain. "I don't think she'd ever seen the like of it before." So they had conspired to get her here… out of Paris… out of France… and back into some semblance of her mortal life. But Aella evidently didn't take to being manipulated. Methos straightened thinking, _Damn Darius for not coming!_ Surely if he'd come… things would have been better… and he and Phillip might have convinced both of them to move on with their lives.

His side healed, Methos climbed the stairs to his bedroom and undressed. Standing near the window and gazing out at the moonlight, he'd felt her quiet approach in the hall and gentle knock for admittance.

"Come," he said harshly and continued to watch the clouds blow across the moonlit sky.

She, too, was in her nightdress… a pale white ghost in the shadows of the darkened room. "Your side?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Methos continued to gaze out the window. "I only wanted you to know how I felt. I would never force you to do anything. I'd die first." He turned then to stare at her.

"I know that… it's just… I don't want to ever be put in a position where I have to stop you… I don't want us ever to feel like we have to kill one another."

"I just thought this would be easiest. As man and wife… we can gain admittance to court functions and spy out the lay of the land… as it were… and the best way to make our assault on the collection." He hoped he sounded even-voiced. He didn't want her to know how much he wanted her here.

"Edward…" her voice trailed away. After a long moment she began again. "I am your friend. I am here because you ask me to be here… but you must never assume I will… _be_ with you… If I do… I do it because I _choose_ to, not because of some vow we made centuries ago. I do _not_ appreciate being maneuvered into a situation where I am expected to be your wife. Understand… I cannot stay with you. Once this is over… I will leave."

Methos sighed and nodded.

"Promise me… when I say I have to go… you will not stop me… Whether I stay or whether I go must always be my choice."

"I promise," he said sadly and then smiled as she came close and stood on tip-toe to kiss him… softly… teasingly.

"Now then… whose room do we use," she said.

He'd laughed and swept her up into his arms kissing her gently and carrying her to the high four poster bed so that he could show her how much he loved her.

After they'd stolen the crystal… after Phillip had left… after she'd held it and seen some horror within it that had terrified her… Aella had remained with him for only one hundred days. Then Lady Ellen Gray had fallen ill and died.

Lord Gray buried his wife in the family vault located on the estate grounds. That evening… he'd met her outside the vault with men's traveling clothes and her weapons.

"I'll go with you," he offered.

"No, you promised to let me go. Edward, someday I may stay… but that day is not now… I must go… and you must stay." She'd kissed him one last time… and then vanished into the night.

Her words rang in his soul. _My choice! It must always be my choice!_

****

Scotland

Methos curled into Eleanor's lap, clasping his arms about her tiny waist. "I'm so sorry… I would have died before hurting you… I would have let you kill me. I'm so sorry…"

Eleanor stroked his hair and pursed her brow. _Odd he doesn't recall the other time?_ But then… neither did she… at least not clearly. She'd been surprised it was the memory of that time so long ago that they had shared… and not the more recent one… the one she could not clearly remember. She leaned down to kiss him.

"I didn't know who you were then… I only knew that you'd warned me never to trust you… that one day… we might have to face death at one another's hands and I didn't want to chance it. I know who you are now… I chose you… Not just the you that exists today… but all of you. There is nothing in either of our pasts that can change that choice… not ever… not now."

Methos met her gaze with a weak smile. "How can you bear to look at me after what I just did?"

Eleanor smiled and trailed her fingers along his neck. "Because you are the other half of my soul… and darkness and light are both needed… or we are incomplete." She bent to kiss him as his hand touched her own neck and the unity flared.

They were one… and together they could banish the darkness. Gently he pulled her down onto the hay. "Let me erase the memory of what I did… Let me try…" he whispered hoarsely, and she surrendered willingly to his touch.

Later, he carried her into the farmhouse wrapped in a horse blanket, as her torn clothes were insufficient against the cold. An oil lamp burned in the main room. Thankfully there was no sign of Derrick. Methos carried his wife to their bed… and lay beside her grateful that she had neither turned him away… nor left him alone in his madness.

Two days later, the local constable happened by to ask if they'd seen strangers in the past week. "No," said Methos. "Why? What's happened?"

"Three decapitated bodies were found about five miles north of here. Looked like there was a firestorm of some sort about one of them. Wanted you folks, and others in the area to be on the lookout for strangers and be careful."

"We will be," said Eleanor with a smile. "We will be," and she leaned into her husband's protecting embrace.


	19. Chapter 18

****

Chapter 18

Scotland, January, 2010

A mid-winter thaw eased into the land a few weeks later. Melting snow dripped from the rooftops as icicles formed at night and melted in winter sunlight. The snow became slush, and footprints took on the shape of some monstrous foot… some giant who still walked the earth.

Satisfied that the roads were clear… Methos suggested that he and Derrick take a trip into town. For the moment… he and Eleanor had decided to stay put, feeling that the deaths of the three outlaws need not impact any further on their lives. They were ready to leave if necessary… but if they did not have to… it was better to remain. Fleeing here might alert someone that the deaths of the three men were related to their leaving. It was better to continue on as if nothing had changed.

In the barn… out of sight… he and Eleanor had stepped up their sparring several notches. He needed to be better than he was… he needed to be ready in case someone else happened by. Eleanor had agreed… donning men's clothes and tying back her long hair in a braid so that she could focus on the matches.

Derrick had been remarkably agreeable… as if still worrying that the situation might have been his fault… something that he could and should have prevented. He watched them spar sometimes… following their moves with focused vision. Alone at night, he stared into the darkness… remembering their moves in combat as if they were his.

Methos and Eleanor had discussed the situation.

"I think he knows your name," she'd said sitting in their bed, clasping her knees as her face turned toward his stretched out form with a smile.

He'd run his fingers through her hair. "He's growing up. We need to decide what to do."

Eleanor had nodded. "Perhaps it's time… to be open with him. To make the next move."

"We can't just tell him… we need to know what he knows first." Twisting her hair into his fist, Methos had given a slight pull to bring her closer.

She'd shifted and stretched out next to him… running her fingers over him. "And something else…"

"What," he'd said kissing her nose and lips and neck, more concerned with the here and now rather than the future.

"The next time… don't shut me out."

Methos had pulled back, narrowing his eyes.

"We've both succumbed to darkness with a quickening. Me because I took too much in at one time… You because with your great age… there is so much more in you… depths that I don't think even you have plumbed."

Methos had nodded thoughtfully. It was something he'd realized about himself centuries ago.

"With the link… we can help one another," Eleanor had continued. "We can balance what happens. Promise me…"

Methos had smiled. "I promise. Now…" then he'd flipped her under him and had bent to kiss her.

In the clearing that they had used for sparring and lessons for the past year, Methos and Derrick circled as they assessed one another's moves… Derrick punched, Methos avoided. Derrick double-kicked… Methos pulled back. Derrick twirled with a sweeping motion… Methos hopped… only to be hit by the reverse. He went down.

Derrick leaned over him. "Gotcha!" The boy grinned and held out a hand to help him up.

Methos clasped it and then pulled Derrick off his feet… and tossing the boy over his shoulder as he rose. "Never offer a hand unless you are certain your enemy has surrendered."

Derrick rose to his knees with a laugh and a nod. "Right… Stay focused… stay balanced." He flopped over onto his seat and pulled his knees up. "Breather?"

"Why? Tired already?"

Derrick nodded. "I don't seem to have your constitution for this." He wiped the perspiration from his brow as he took several deep breaths.

"No… and that is why you are never to initiate a fight… only be ready to finish one. Especially not with someone you know is an immortal. I teach you these moves to help keep you safe when you are with us. To give you a means to surprise someone that there is more about you than they might suspect." Methos crossed to a large duffel bag and rummaged in it.

"Right… more to me than others suspect," Derrick murmured softly.

Methos glanced back at him. Finally he rose and crouched before the boy. "Listen to me carefully Derrick. What I tell you now you must never repeat to anyone. Do I have your word on it?"

Derrick nodded.

"I am older than you can imagine. For thousands of years I have walked this earth… and I have kept my head by staying out of the paths other immortals follow. I keep my mouth shut. I tell no one anything that I can keep from telling them… and I wait to make my move."

Derrick's eyes widened, but Methos did not see bewilderment there… only surprise.

"My name is Methos." He paused. "But you knew that… didn't you Derrick?"

The boy nodded slowly.

"What else do you know?"

Derrick shook his head. "Nothing that makes sense. I knew you… or at least the other one knew you… the one who was Ellie's friend. He knew you and he knew her… and Phillip and Duncan… sometimes I seem to hear his thoughts. But I don't really _know_ anything."

"What about that computer game?"

"Only that it interested him… But I haven't made any headway on it for a long time. The only real breakthroughs were when we worked on it together."

"I have been remiss in that area… Perhaps I feared to solve it… fearing we'd have to leave here too soon if we figured it all out." Methos glanced thoughtfully off into the distance. "But the time nears."

"And the crystal…" Derrick added. "I don't see anything else besides what I told you. It's just that sometimes… I see things like an old silent movie. It moves so fast and only slows for me to see small scenes… usually of you and Ellie… and the others."

"And the sword? Does it speak to you Derrick?"

The boy laughed. "A sword is just a sword. Why would it speak?" Then he sobered. "I do have to learn how to use it… don't I?"

Methos rose and returned to the duffel pulling out two wooden practice swords. He tossed one to Derrick. "Only to be familiar with one… Just in case something happens to me… In case you need to get Eleanor out of here… away from me."

Derrick caught the wooden blade easily in his hand as he stood. He cocked his head to one side. "Why away from you?"

"Let's just say… sometimes when we take a quickening… things can be a little rough… We lose a piece of ourselves for a while. If there is a problem with an immortal… and I…" Methos spread his hands, "Do something I shouldn't, I need to be certain you can get her out of here. She won't want to leave… but she will need to." He gazed levelly at Derrick, then he smiled. "Why do you think I started teaching you to drive?"

"Ellie won't leave you." Derrick answered. "She's stubborn."

"I know… but she may have to. And if you two are on the road alone… I want to be certain you can defend yourself… just in case."

"But I'm not an immortal."

Methos gazed at the boy and then shook his head. "No… you are not an immortal…" Silently he added, "_yet_." he raised his wooden blade… "Now then stand beside me and follow what I do. Your practice blade is the same weight and length as the great sword… so what you learn in these sessions should carry over just in case."

With that… the lesson began in earnest.


	20. Chapter 19

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Chapter 19

__

Ste. Genevieve, February 2010

Amanda had not dared to leave the convent again once she had returned. She'd had a harder time shaking that Watcher than usual. But she had managed… and had also managed not to have anyone on her tail once she'd turned east.

Back at the convent, Nick had continued to remain cognizant of them all… even as they reduced and finally stopped the sedatives. Eventually… even the restraints had come off and the afternoons in the garden had resumed.

To Amanda's eyes… Nick seemed thin, pale and defeated. He seemed more now than ever to just be waiting for an end… to be free of the numbing sameness of his life. Too often he merely sat… nodding his head as Valeraine continued her reading… oblivious to the world around him.

Amanda feared he was giving up his fight to keep Nestor under control… but as of yet… the madman had not re-surfaced… but Amanda knew Nestor was not banished, so much as merely biding his time. Whatever had happened to bring him forth once more with such vitality worried the immortal thief. Thus… she feared to leave. Her responsibility was to the immortals here… she would be the one to direct any defense… plan any escape. Ursa could fight, but he couldn't plan. Besides, Ursa might be needed to physically control Nestor if it came to it.

Amanda secured supplies in several of the mountain caves, with the help of some of the children. A change of clothes, blankets, fresh water… whatever they might need. She was worried something was happening and felt like… without Duncan's monthly calls… her window on the world outside had closed. But she feared it might only be a matter of time before this convent and its inhabitants were found.

It was therefore, with little surprise, that she looked up one day to see a small van approach. Amanda could feel the presence even before she'd managed to get everyone inside as she stood alone and ready in the courtyard.

The van pulled to a stop… and Phillip… bearded, his brown hair longish… just reaching to the collar of his chambray shirt… stepped out. "Sorry," he said with a grin. "Is that for me?" He gestured to her sword.

Amanda sighed as she dropped her guard. "Phillip!" She crossed toward him, relieved to feel his strong arms about her and his booming laughter. "I never thought to see you again."

"Oh… I may not get out much Amanda… but I come when asked."

Amanda pulled back… the unspoken question in her eyes.

"MacLeod reached me by email well over a year ago… He seemed to think you might need some help. Trouble was… I was in the middle of something at the time that I had to finish. Then, as I finally made my way here… I heard tales of immortals vanishing… and even I was being tailed at one point. I couldn't get here any sooner… I didn't dare. I didn't wish to lead anyone here."

"Duncan… where is he?"

Phillip shrugged. "I don't know Amanda…. I truly don't. I didn't ask and he didn't say." The Greek wrapped one arm about her shoulders as they walked toward the main house. "He hadn't been in touch in a while… Then I got his message that you might have your hands full with our friend and if I got the chance to come check it out. He didn't seem to feel it was urgent… just that I should be aware of whatever it was. So here I am… a little late… but safely here at last."

"He was supposed to come… He was supposed to help me… but then he vanished. I was afraid something had happened to him. It's been two years!"

"Aye," nodded Phillip. "He didn't want you to worry… just that what he was doing took precedence. He felt you could handle things here… he just wanted me to be available and to check in on you. Besides…" he leaned down and with a teasing laugh added, "I brought my PPC with me." Phillip indicated his small hand-held computer in his coat picket. "And… I have his email address for you." He winked.

Amanda leaned into him and shook for a moment. "I was so worried," she whispered again. "So very worried." Then she looked up. "I'll kill him for this… I really will." She laughed nervously as she lay her cheek on Phillip's chest… feeling all too much the need for something more than friendship from a man."

As if he'd picked up on that, Phillip held her at arm's length sadly, but firmly. "Now then… perhaps I should see young Nick and how he's doing."

Amanda nodded and led the way to the main building.

Ursa met them at the door… his slack face peering at the Greek with a question.

Phillip paused. "Hello Ursa," he finally said quietly, hoping the giant might recall him.

Finally Usa smiled. "Greek!" he said. "You return. We fight once more?"

Phillip shook his head. "Not today Ursa… not today." He reached out to clasp the giant on the arm in a friendly gesture.

"You two have fought?"

"Once… long ago. Long ago," Phillip chuckled. "Today, Ursa… we protect the small ones."

Ursa nodded standing aside. "I watch the road…" he said.

Amanda gave him a small smile. "Yes… let us know if others come Ursa." She reclaimed Phillip's arm and led him into the refectory where the others waited.

After the simple supper, Amanda, Luke and Phillip retired to Luke's office. During the visit with Nick and the meal… Phillip had said little… mostly making small talk… assuring the children that all was as it should be. He'd hid the van in the barn along with the SUV.

Outside, Amanda knew Ursa as yet kept watch. Valeraine was with Nick in his room… settling him down. The nuns were cleaning up from dinner while the children were sparring in the schoolroom.

"So… Phillip… what is going on out there in the world?" Amanda finally asked him.

Phillip stretched his feet out and crossed them as he regarded both women. "I'm not entirely certain. Like you people… I am more or less retired from the world and the game… unless it comes to me. It hasn't in recent years… but I do keep up with world events and the state of the world."

"And what have you learned?" Luke sipped at her tea… a small smile on her thin lips.

"That life goes on in the world much as it has for millennia. Nations rise and nations fall. The pendulum swings from conservative viewpoint to liberal viewpoint and back again. Technology grows more complex. The rich get richer and the poor…" Phillip shrugged gesturing the obvious.

"And immortals?" Amanda asked.

"As I said… I see few if any. Yet as I traveled here… I ran into a few who were more skittish than normal. They feared me when they saw me… Many were young… not heavily into the game. They spoke of friends who had vanished… and enemies who had been pursuing them. When I left them to their headlong dash to find a place to hide… I began to notice I was being followed."

"By whom?" Luke asked.

Phillip shook his head. "Whoever they were… they were clever. They stayed back… and vanished if I tried to approach them. I do not like being followed… I never did. I had hoped to learn if the Watchers had picked up on me again… but I was unsuccessful in my endeavors. Thus I focused on losing my tails… so that I could come here. For better or worse… I am here for a while I think."

"And Duncan… have you contacted him about this?" Amanda bit her lip. She was a strong and independent immortal… but she was also a woman in love.

Phillip shook his head. "I have his email address in my head… but I feared to message him. I feared that until I was someplace safe… emailing him might put him in danger. Its the same way with…" Phillip eyed Sister Luke with a smile, "… the doctor and his family. They have my address… I have theirs… but unless I need them… unless we need them… I will not intrude."

"But we can contact Duncan now?"

Phillip nodded and pulled out the small handheld computer. He powered it up and entered an address… just a set of letters and numbers that meant nothing to Amanda. "Shall I tell him you feel like killing him?" he grinned at Amanda's laughing face.

She shook her head. "Tell him to stay safe… We are in good hands."

Phillip chuckled and entered some additional code, then hit send. He erased the information from his PPC, covering his tracks so that nothing could be discovered if it fell into the wrong hands.

"What happens now?" asked Luke.

"Now… we go on. I can be the new caretaker here perhaps. Ursa's good in the garden… but I have a feeling it may have been a while since this roof was last shingled."

Sister Luke threw back her head and laughed. It felt good to laugh again.

****

Venice

Michelle Webster raced through the darkened streets. Someone was following her. Someone always seemed to be following her these days. Her friend David Keogh had vanished a few days ago… as had the ancient immortal known as Kyra… the one who'd been teaching Michelle some old sword skills recently.

When Amanda had disappeared ten years ago… Michelle had left college and begun traveling. She'd decided to live instead of studying. Since both Duncan and Amanda appeared to have washed their hands of her… she decided to find her own friends… live the life she wanted.

For a while it had been one great party! Then about five years ago… things had begun to be a little strange. Immortals vanished… immortals who should not have lost to anyone. That was when she'd found Kyra… or Kyra had found her and taken her under her wing. Kyra had even known Duncan…though she didn't say how. "Friends," she said with a secretive smile, "We're friends."

Michelle knew that smile. Amanda had often given her that smile when Michelle had pushed for details about Duncan. But now… even Kyra had vanished. Kyra… whose skills were formidable indeed! If Kyra had been lost to whoever was pursuing them… how could Michelle Webster of Seacouver, Washington hope to compete.

She rounded a corner and ran straight into an electrical charge. The power lanced into her and made her jerk in the throes of it. Finally the charge stopped. Michelle wavered on her feet a moment… her mind unclear. Hands grabbed her. A voice said harshly, "Bring her."

Michelle lost consciousness as she was lifted into someone's arms and carried away.


	21. Chapter 20

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Chapter 20

Scotland, March 2011

The small red car pulled up beside Derrick as he stood staring at the newspaper headlines. He and Methos had come to town for supplies.

A red-haired girl and a dark-haired one leaned out through their car window.

"Hey cutie… " They laughed.

Derrick looked up at them with an open smile.

"Want to go for a ride?" they laughed again.

Derrick shook his head.

"He's a dummy… he never says anything," the brunette teased.

"Dumb… but cute," the redhead replied.

They drove off.

Derrick stared after them. At some point in the last year… he seemed to have garnered the attention of several of the local lasses. He wasn't certain why. Methos had given him strict instruction to be circumspect in any communication he might have with locals… so Derrick chose to say nothing. But he found he rather liked their teasing and attention.

"Help me with this," Methos said carrying out several bags of seed and fertilizer. Derrick grabbed one and tossed it easily into the back of the land rover. Methos tossed the others in and grinned as he nodded at the departing lasses. "And what did they want."

Derrick shrugged, but he felt a bit flushed. "I think they wanted me to take a ride with them."

Methos stood straighter and arched an eyebrow as he watched the car turn the corner and vanish. "I'll just be they did."

"I think they think I'm slow."

"Not a bad way to be thought of sometimes, Derrick. No one ever needs to know what goes on in your mind."

"Even you?" Derrick asked.

Methos gazed at him thoughtfully, then smiled, "Even me… though I do appreciate whatever you do tell me. Now let's get back. Eleanor will be wondering where we are."

Derrick nodded. He stared once more at the newspaper headlines that spoke of the threat of war in parts of the world that were only names on a map to him, then climbed into the rover and slammed the door firmly.

"Anything wrong?" Methos asked as he started the engine.

"No… it's just I read the news of war in the world and wonder why?"

"Economics and power." Methos offered. "Throughout time there have been those that have and those that want. One goes to war with the other to have whatever it is they perceive the other has. Either that… or they wish to have power over the others."

Once they returned to the farm and unloaded their supplies, Methos headed for the lower field to check on the soil conditions for planting as Derrick carried the box of food staples into the house.

There was still a chill in the weather… spring was here… but it was not yet truly warm… especially in the house. Eleanor had lit the fire in the fireplace and was seated before it drying her hair.

The sprinkle of silver threads, the result of that third death in three days by Cassandra's hand so many years ago, sparkled in the firelight amidst her black hair. She ran her fingers through the long locks, untangling it as she did so.

Derrick set the box on the table and watched her. Some memory deep within him stirred… a memory of longing and unrealized love. Derrick shook his head to clear it. He did love Ellie… but not that way… but he thought that maybe the one whose memories he held might have once. Those feelings stirred in him sometimes… as now… when he saw her do something or say something that seemed eerily familiar.

Ellie glanced up at him with a smile. "Back so soon? I figured you two would be gone for hours."

Derrick shrugged, eager to break free of the odd mood hanging over him, "I think Adam wanted to see about getting some planting done."

Ellie nodded and continued drying her hair. She closed her eyes and grinned. With that slight movement… Derrick knew her thoughts were with Methos. He let out a long breath as he turned to leave.

At that moment a log rolled, or a branch sparked to life. Flames shot out from the fire and licked hungrily at Ellie's hair. She screamed in terror as she jumped to her feet.

Derrick swiftly grabbed a blanket tossed over a chair and ran towards her… tackling her to the floor and using the blanket to smother the flames that seemed to consume her.

"Eleanor!" he cried out… trying desperately to banish the nightmare vision that now consumed him. Fearfully, he pulled the blanket away from her face to see the charred remnants of her face… blisters rose and burst… her hair… a smoky ruin of brittle stalks. As he pulled the blanket further away, calling her name again and again, he could see that the burns were not as severe this time. For a single moment… Derrick wondered what that thought meant… then he relaxed and just let the old memory play out in his mind… a memory of Eleanor so burned that death took her again and again… burns so severe that she could not seem to heal.

Eleanor's mouth worked back and forth silently… as she tried to speak.

"Don't force it Eleanor… just wait. You'll heal… It's not so bad this time."

Behind him, Derrick could hear Methos' cry as he raced toward the house, evidently aware that something had happened. As yet, Derrick could not see any of the healing take place. He sat back, wiping the back of one hand across his mouth and considering what he needed to do now. He needed to help her. The old memory was screaming at him to help her… help her now!

Methos' arrival caused Derrick to glance up and move aside.

"Eleanor…" the old one murmured as he started to touch her and then hesitated… realizing that the touch of anything would be sheer pain for her until she began to heal.

"We have to help her." Derrick cried.

Methos nodded and sat back.

One of Eleanor's hands, burned and swollen grasped at Derrick's hand as if to comfort the boy. Methos swallowed… Derrick had never really seen Eleanor injured… killed by a sword… yes… but never injured. The boy likely had no idea how long this might take. Methos rose and crossed to a table… grabbing a butcher knife. Returning he positioned it over Eleanor's heart. If she died… she wouldn't be in pain… she would heal while dead…

"No… what are you doing? You'll only make it worse!" Derrick cried out and grabbed the knife away. "Don't you understand… that would take even more of her strength. She'd be worse off… not better."

Methos stared at Derrick. Then down as Eleanor's other hand found his. For a moment he felt her need to comfort them both… that all would be fine…

Methos lay one hand on Derrick's shoulder, wishing he had the words to explain what was happening… why if he didn't kill her… this might be worse for her…

Derrick's tear-filled eyes met Methos'. The boy nodded as if understanding somehow. He raised his free hand and wished there were some way to help them both… help Eleanor heal… help Methos to understand that death was not the answer… but what that was… Derrick had no idea… only that somehow he needed to help them.

Something seemed to flare between the three of them. A power and feel of quickening crackled about them for a moment… as if all three were caught within something older than all of them. When it ended… Methos gazed down at Eleanor's rapidly healing face… The blisters scabbed over and dried up, new smooth skin formed and she was as beautiful to his eyes as she had ever been… Her hair seemed to re-grow on her head… black and full with no sign of the silver that had sparkled in it in recent years… just the one hair… the one he'd first noticed centuries ago… before that first death. He reached to cup her chin in one hand… wishing to drown for a moment in those remarkable grey-green eyes.

Lightly he kissed her… his need for her suddenly greater than anything he could ever recall feeling. He glared at Derrick… "Get out! Get out now!"

The boy scrambled back in confusion… uncertain as to what was going on… nothing made sense… What had just happened? At Methos' words he turned, found his feet and ran into the courtyard… where he gulped in fresh air and stared at the overhead clouds… floating in the clear blue sky. He had never felt so alone in his life. Even the old memories were silent… as if they were gone.

Methos gathered Eleanor into his arms and carried her to their bed where he gently pulled the charred remnants of her robe from about her. He ran his hands over her… as if to re-assure himself that she was fine. Her unflawed skin seemed to glow with a power that called to him in a way he had never before felt.

Her hands reached for his neck and cupped his face… but it was not the unity that was flaring… it was something else… her eyes sparkled green and she pulled his face to hers… kissing him. Methos responded even as his hands and hers pulled at his own clothes to get them out of the way.

He needed her… he needed her more than he ever had. There was urgency to their love… it needed to be fulfilled now… before the moment passed.

The long shadows of dusk filled their room. Methos lay stretched beside her, lazily caressing Eleanor's smooth body in wonder. He felt content… and oddly fulfilled. Suddenly he pulled her small frame so that she rested on his chest covering him… and her long black hair covered them both like a thin blanket. He sighed. Beneath her hair Methos hugged her close… as if somehow they could truly merge and be one person.

Eleanor laughed… softly… like tinkling bells. "So soon again, my Lord."

He grinned… she only called him that when she was truly happy. "No… just enjoying the moment… and the feel of you." He ran his hands through her hair… the scent of honey seemed to fill the room… honey and fresh mown hay. Again he sighed.

Eleanor snuggled her face into his chest… "What happened… I don't honestly recall… I was burned… I hurt… I wanted you not to worry… and then… I just wanted you… more than I could ever recall wanting you."

Methos turned his head to glance at the fading light of day on the far side of the window… his mind on Derrick. "I don't know… but I intend to find out."

Eleanor raised up on her hands, placed to either side of him, "What is it?"

Methos gently pushed her to one side and sat up, swinging his legs to the floor. "I'll be back in few moments. Wait here." He leaned over to kiss her. "Wait here," he repeated, arching his eyebrows in a knowing smirk. Grabbing his jeans and sweater, he hastily donned them and headed outside.

On the bed… Eleanor stretched lazily… happier than she could ever remember being.


	22. Chapter 21

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Chapter 21

__

Ste. Genevieve

Phillip stood back from the wall, admiring the paint job. In the last year… he'd found lots to keep him busy about this place. He'd re-shingled the roofs, shored up some foundations, and painted everything. The convent and the school looked new and bright in the late afternoon light. Even as the sun began to dip beneath the surrounding mountains, giving a red glow to everything, Phillip gathered up the last of the paint and brushes and whistling, began to clean and stow everything.

A nearby presence caused him to look up as Micah, the titular head of the lambs since Ian had left, approached him tentatively. Micah had been fourteen when he'd been thrown by his horse, startled as one of the strange new horseless carriages had passed by. He'd been found by a kindly immortal, and after his death, had wandered until reaching Paris about 1950 where he'd met Darius… the priest. From there, Darius had sent Micah to the convent… a place he'd not cared to leave in the years since.

"Is there a problem Micah?" Phillip asked… finishing the job of cleaning the brushes.

"No Sir… but I had a thought."

"And?" Phillip chuckled. He'd noticed the boy watching him whenever he worked out alone in the classroom… Phillip seldom let anyone watch him… and even more rarely taught any of them too much. He'd left that for Amanda to do.

"Some of those moves you make… could someone like me learn them?"

Phillip nodded, a bit amused at the boy. "Some of them… aye some of them you could manage. But know this Micah Goddfried, most of what I know will not work for you."

"Still," the boy shifted his feet, "surely there is something I could learn. Valeraine once told me you were a great teacher."

Phillip threw back his head and let laughter echo in the shed. "Is that what she said? Micah, my lad, you should ask what the lesson was that she learned. I don't think it's one you'd care for."

Micah licked his lips, "But a move or two… Surely there is something…"

Phillip sighed as he nodded. "See me in the schoolroom later… I'll see what I can do."

Micah's beaming grin betrayed his joy. He slapped one hand on the door jamb and backed away… almost skipping. "Yes Sir… thank you Swordmaster!" He turned and raced off, rejoining four of the other five children now living here.

Phillip sobered as he regarded the lambs. Oldest among them was likely the four-year old Denara. Greek as he was… she'd been killed in a raid on her village long ago. Phillip did not know how the child had ever survived long enough to find this place. Someone must have been looking out for her. Madrigal was thirteen… a brunette with a lovely voice and a bewitching smile. Beaten to death by a foster father, she was, as yet, like a shy fawn around grown men. Valeraine had found her on one of her trips out of here and brought her back decades ago. Chou was about eleven. Phillip thought that Methos had brought the boy here from one of his trips to the Orient centuries ago. The last of them was Denis… small, dark-haired, dark-skinned, dark-eyed Denis… who seldom spoke… and whose past was a mystery he did not speak of. Only Marie-France knew where she had found the eleven-year old… and Marie-France was dead. Denis had only recently returned to the convent… and he still seemed openly saddened at Marie-France's loss.

Valeraine, the eight centuries old, eight year old girl… with her blonde braids and bossy demeanor… had abdicated her position as eldest… she no longer spent time with the others. Valeraine took care of Nick. Phillip smiled to himself… the lass was finally acting more her real age… rather than that of her apparent one. Indeed, in many ways, Valeraine's personality had begun to reflect some of the qualities of the lost Marie-France. Perhaps it was her close association with Nick Wolfe that had brought about that change. The immortal girl was far quieter, Sister Luke had mentioned… and far more mature… than she had been in all the time the elderly nun had known her.

Phillip watched the children race off toward the refectory and dinner. He finished with his clean-up and looked in on Nick and Valeraine before heading into dinner himself. The laughter and easy camaraderie of the inhabitants here relaxed the genial Greek. If he were honest with himself, Phillip had missed companionship in recent years… the interaction of immortal friends with one another… a life where someone knew something about him… about who he really was.

Yellow pound cake was being sliced and served when Ursa entered looking around fearfully for Amanda and Phillip. Amanda waved him over, but the somber look she gave Phillip betrayed her unease. Ursa ate earlier… and usually kept watch at night.

"Men come… dust on the road," he said simply. The level of conversation trickled off as everyone's attention was riveted on the main table.

Phillip nodded. "Amanda, you and Ursa separate and hide. Luke… you and the nuns be ready to greet the men… be wary. Children… to your rooms… be ready."

"Is that safe, Phillip? Shouldn't we be ready to meet them outright?"

"If they are only men on a scouting mission… looking for immortals… who would they recognize? If they are only men on the road… seeking directions… we mustn't make them suspicious. You and Ursa are the best known to the Watchers. I'll be in Nick's room. Now move!"

As the dark sedan pulled into the courtyard, Sister Luke watched through the window of her office. She was the least of the ones here. She and Phillip had long ago decided that if it came to a sacrifice… that if those who were making immortals vanish… came here… they would find only her. She stretched her ancient shoulders and moved her head from side to side as she clasped and unclasped her gnarled hands. She was more capable than she looked… but even she realized her gifts in the game were slight. The children were safe… Amanda was safe. Ursa was safe. Phillip would be certain that Nick and Valeraine were safe. Now… these men would find only five mortal nuns and an old prioress.

Two men… dressed in black got out of the sedan and were met by Sister Simplice. The three stood talking… then headed toward the main house. Luke sighed, then arranged herself in her office chair… behind the great mahogany desk. She awaited the strangers.

Through the small window of Nick's room, Phillip peered at the strangers nervously. Was anyone else in the vehicle? It remained dark. He saw no tell-tale light that might tell him anything. The hardest part of watching… was waiting.

Behind him in the darkened room… he could hear Valeraine's low murmur as she spoke to young Nick… urging him to relax… assuring him that all was fine. Nick seemed agitated… his garbled cries rising in volume.

"Phillip, I can't get him to settle down. Hold him while I get the meds."

Phillip reluctantly stepped away from the window. He needed to watch… but he needed to keep Nick quiet even more.

As he reached the young immortal, Phillip was startled when Nick's palm rubbed his face almost lovingly and a low cackle sounded deep in the young man's chest. Phillip stared at Nick's pale face in the dim light of the room and realized Nestor had returned.

"Lass… have you that sedative ready?"

Valeraine finished filling the syringe and gingerly approached as Nestor threw back his head and roared. He strained against Phillip's hold… arching his back in an attempt to rise. The Greek tightened his grip against the writhing immortal and held the young man steady while Valeraine administered the dose… Gradually the sounds and movements stopped. Swiftly the two applied the restraints. Once finished, Phillip returned to watch the sedan… worried that he had missed something.

Amanda paced back and forth in the barn… worried that somehow something was happening that she should be ready for. She hated the idea of remaining out of sight. These were only mortals… why should she hide? Exasperated… Amanda grasped the barn door and pulled it open slightly to one side, grimacing in the loud grate of the door as she pushed it to one side.

She paused… straining to hear anything. All was quiet. Satisfied she turned to pull the door shut and was hit from behind by something solid connecting with her head. She stumbled… shaking her head in an attempt to clear it of stars and streaks of lightning. She could feel blood dripping down her face.

Hands grabbed her from behind and began to drag her away from the barn. She tried to struggle… only to feel another blow… and this time… darkness took her.

Ursa sat calmly in the potting shed. He had been told to wait. He would wait. But soft footsteps sounded outside… moving swiftly… then halted near the window. From the shadows where he sat… Ursa saw someone peer into the window. He hefted his great axe, as the sound of whispered voices reached his hearing. The head vanished from his sight and he heard footsteps moving away. The something came crashing through the window and a noxious odor arose from a canister as it hit the floor.

With a mighty roar… Ursa rose and crashed through the door, swinging his axe and feeling the comforting feel as it connected with a human body… With only the barest hesitation he continued his stroke… kicking the dead man aside as he swung the axe at another… This time… a gun sounded… and several bullets slammed into his body several times. He roared… stumbled and kept swinging… bringing down at least one more… before the bullets took their toll.

Patterson opened the sedan trunk as Wilson tumbled Amanda's body into it, then he slammed it shut. "That's one," he muttered.

As gunfire erupted near a potting shed of some sort… the two men raced in that direction. The giant immortal had taken out Baines and Greer before they arrived and added their shots to those of Carter. As they stood over the dead immortal and the bodies of their two companions, Patterson muttered, "Well there goes the element of surprise. Come on… let's get him secured so we can get the others."

Swiftly they began dragging Ursa's body toward the sedan.

Sister Luke nodded warmly at Sister Simplice as she served the tea. "Thank you Sister, you may retire now." Sister Simplice curtsied and left. Luke looked at the two men. "Now… gentlemen… Tell me again how I may help you."

The older of the two men, gray, thin hair, slicked back… a high widow's peak, well-dressed, sat forward, tugging absent-mindedly at his cuffs. "We are sorry to have arrived so late… we know this must be inconvenient… to meet with us at so late an hour…"

Luke sat back as shots rang out. Glancing at the window… she rose to take steps in that direction.

"Sit down Sister… we don't want to hurt you."

Turning, Luke saw that the younger man, dark-haired, held a gun on her.

"We are only here for the demons… We are here to cleanse this convent of those who are the devil's spawn."

Luke looked at them quizzically but continued to rise and take a few faltering steps toward the window. Someone had been found… slowly she turned and faltered at the edge of her desk… her cane seemed to flop impotently in her hand. She gasped. "Demons you say…"

The older man reached to assist her.

Swiftly Luke twisted her slender rapier free of the cane casing and impaled the man… pulling him to her as the other man fired. The body shook from the impact. Luke pushed the body before her as she forced it onto the armed man. Pulling her rapier back… she thrust it with deadly force into the second man just as Sister Simplice and Sister Mona burst in… ready to assist.

Luke let both men fall to the floor. "Gather the children, we're going on the offensive," she said as she headed for the courtyard. "And make certain those two don't get up."

Curses in fourteen languages passed Phillip's lips as he saw the two men load Amanda into the sedan, then he heard the shots. "Stay with Nick… " he tossed over his shoulder to Valeraine as he left, "And bolt the door." Phillip slipped through the shadows toward the gunfire. He saw Ursa crumple to the ground. As the three men began to drag him off… Phillip took a deep breath and attacked… swiftly… before they were even aware of another armed immortal… he dispatched them. He knelt beside Ursa to assess his wound… "Good," he murmured, "You're already healing." Phillip rose and headed toward the sedan. He popped the trunk and was just lifting a bloodied Amanda out of it as Luke strode up.

"Ursa?" she asked.

"He's over there," Phillip replied, as he set Amanda's body on the ground. His plans had nearly failed. He'd almost lost two of them. "You seem quite limber this evening Luke."

"When I need to be. Are there any more?"

Phillip nodded. "If not tonight… more will come."

In the distance they heard Ursa's roar as he recovered.

"We are no longer safe here. We move tonight." Phillip said as Amanda stirred in his hands. "It's all right, Amanda…" he said softly. The nuns and children gathered around. "Gather the essentials… We're leaving."

The five mortal nuns were instructed to take the SUV and head to Geneva and the mother house. "Tell them there that you were attacked… As for the rest…" Luke shrugged… "it might be better if you say nothing else." Luke hugged the young women and bid them, "Godspeed!" as they drove off.

The five children piled into the van. Ursa carried Nick out so they could strap him into a seat. He was still unconscious. Amanda hugged Valeraine as they watched and then they climbed in. Phillip slipped into the driver's seat. Was it only a few hours ago he'd finished the painting? Too bad he'd not see the finished job by daylight. "Hang on kids, we've got a long ride ahead of us." With those words, he drove south out of the convent of _Ste. Genevieve_. Behind them… they left seven dead men. The immortals were alive and free only because there had been more of them than the men had expected. They evidently had not considered Sister Luke a viable threat even if they had realized she was immortal… and they must not have known about Phillip's presence there.

As he gazed at the night sky, Phillip hoped they'd gotten them all. That no one else was watching… or following.


	23. Chapter 22

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Chapter 22

Scotland

Methos entered the barn where he saw Derrick sitting on a hay bale, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees… his hands clasped in front of him. The young man looked up at him… almost fearfully.

The immortal took a deep breath and considered what to say… and how to say it. He needed answers… and he was tired of equivocation and misdirection.

Derrick lifted one hand rubbed it over his mouth slowly.

Methos shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and cleared his throat. "Tell me exactly what you did?"

"Is she all right?" Derrick looked at him fearfully.

"She is well… I ask again… tell me exactly what you did." Methos continued levelly… making certain to keep his expression bland, betraying nothing. Inside his heart was pounding.

Derrick shook his head. "I am not certain. I wished to ease her suffering. I kept feeling a great sense of despair that she should not suffer… not this time. When I glanced at you… I wanted to ease your pain as well."

Methos crouched before the boy. He looked at the straw covered dirt floor and then met Derrick's confused gaze. "My thoughts were much the same… as were hers. She did not wish us to suffer… as we watched and waited for her to heal."

"But it should not have happened. Not this time… not like…" Derrick's voice trailed off.

"Not like what?" Methos waited.

Derrick shook his head. "I am not certain. I just had a flash of some memory when it happened and then nothing. I have felt nothing else for the past hour… no memories, no feelings, no visions… as if it is all gone."

Methos smiled. "It is not all gone."

Derrick stared at him, his brows knotted in confusion. "I do not understand."

"We are speaking a dialect of Parsii that died out almost two thousand years ago. Darius spoke it… so something remains."

Derrick leaned back… as if suddenly considering what had just happened. In English he continued, "But I really don't know anything!"

"You know more than you think you do. Now concentrate on that last time… I have no memory of it at all… nor, I am certain, does Eleanor. Describe it to me… describe everything… no matter how insignificant you think it is. Now is not the time to hold anything back Derrick. I have to know what happened."

Derrick nodded, biting his lip and breathing raggedly. He thought of all the visions that had flashed through his mind in the past few years… and then concentrated on one that had involved them all. One that had never made sense… but one that had flashed through his mind just before the odd quickening had encompassed them all when he'd wanted to ease Ellie's suffering. He met Methos' patient glance and began to speak.

Eleanor began to wonder what was keeping Methos so long. Lazily, almost regretfully… she rose from the bed, wrapping one of the sheets about her small form. She held the curtains aside on the window but could see nothing. He was not in the courtyard… but he wasn't far… perhaps the barn.

Grinning, she glanced around the room for something to pull on. Her dress was in charred tatters… but she really didn't need to get dressed… not really. She smiled in the memory of his touch and reached out to him mentally…. a bit surprised when he did not respond. Methos had erected the mental wall that they'd each developed so they had a little privacy. He seldom used it except when he wanted to surprise her about something.

"Keep your surprise," she said lightly.

The sound of the barn door slamming alerted her to his return. Glancing once more through the window… she noted only Methos was on his way. She dropped the sheet where she stood and climbed once more on the bed attempting to strike a bored yet receptive pose. Not satisfied, she rose up slightly and fluffed a pillow before reclining once more.

She heard him in the outer room. Eleanor smiled and ran one hand through her hair. The door opened.

"What do you mean you're leaving? Talk to me!" Eleanor shoved Methos' arm trying to get him to pay attention to her… not the small bag he was packing. He'd shut her out completely… and his face was stern and set. She knew that look… she'd known it for centuries… It was the one he used when he had his mind made up about something and was intent on pursuing a course of action that he did not want her to be a part of. Normally she would have backed down… but not this time… not now. "Where are you going?" she cried trying to push him away from the bag.

Methos grasped her arms and looked at her sadly. He ran one hand along the side of her face… caressing it. Closing his eyes as if struggling with something he held his breath. Then he let it out and said softly. "I'm not leaving for good… but I have to… check on something. I'll be on the mainland. This shouldn't take long… I'll be back… I promise."

Eleanor could hear the pleading in his voice for her to stand aside and let him finish… let him leave. "Then I'm going with you," she finally said with determination.

"No." He dropped his hands and turned back to his bag, thrusting the couple of shirts, sweaters and jeans in on top of the socks. He picked up the shaving kit and tossed it in on top as he closed the bag.

"Of course I'm going." Eleanor crossed to the wardrobe and pulled several outfits free of their hangers.

"You cannot leave Derrick here alone."

"He's eighteen… he'll be fine." She threw the outfits on the bed and pulled a small bag out from underneath.

"He needs you here. If someone came by without one of us here… and something happened… you'd never forgive yourself."

"Then he comes with us."

"Eleanor! Stop! Listen to me for once!"

Eleanor paused to stare at his face… curious as to what was happening.

"This is something I have to do. It may be nothing… but I need to check with MacLeod on something. I won't be gone long. A few days… a week at the most. Wait for me here… watch over Derrick… He's feeling very confused right now. I'll contact you if I need you and Derrick to join me for some reason."

"If it's nothing… why are you shutting me out?" Eleanor bit her lip, she hadn't meant to sound accusatory.

Methos sighed. "I have a lot on my mind. I need to concentrate. You, my love," he smiled and caressed her face once more, "are more of a distraction than you realize. I'll know you are there… I just won't respond."

"And if you have to face someone… Methos you promised…"

"Then you will be with me. Together we will face whatever happens, I promised you that… I'll keep my word. But, let's hope that doesn't happen." He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms about her. Then he bent to kiss the top of her head, smelling the sweet honeyed scent of her and wishing he could stay… but this matter had to be looked into. "I may swing by Geneva and retrieve Darius' letters to us," he murmured. "We should have picked them up long before now. I didn't think they were important… now… they may have all the answers we'll ever need."

"Why? What could be in them?"

Methos drew in a deep breath. Finally he turned her face up and kissed her deeply. As one of Eleanor's hands raised to stroke his neck… he grasped it so that she couldn't. "I have to go," Methos said raggedly kissing her palm. Reluctantly he released her and grabbed his bag to head out into the courtyard where Derrick stood with a saddled horse.

Behind him he heard her in the doorway call, "Come back to me."

Methos' step faltered. He turned to stare at her sheet wrapped form in the doorway and wished he didn't have to go… wished he didn't have to keep his reasons from her… but he had to discover the truth of what Derrick had told him for himself. Then and only then, would he tell Eleanor. Reaching the horse, he threw his soft-sided bag over the saddle-horn. "I'll leave the horse at MacDuffy's Stable when I rent a car. Stay with her Derrick. Don't tell her anything of what you told me. Promise me."

Derrick nodded as Methos swung up on the horse, settling into the saddle as the horse paced back and forth a few steps. "Take care of her until I get back." With that, Methos kicked his horse in the sides and galloped off into the night.

From the doorway Eleanor watched him go. She tried to concentrate and reach him… she could feel him… but he was behind the wall… all she could sense was his determination. Derrick walked up to stand beside her.

"He'll be back Ellie… he promised." He reached out to reassure her.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped at him, pulling her arm away. "I don't want you near me." Eleanor flung one draping corner of the sheet over her shoulder and marched into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and leaning on it. Tears fell and she felt more alone than she had in years. The room was empty. The house was empty. Her mind was empty… without him. Eleanor's gaze found Methos' discarded shirt. He'd worn it yesterday and it was still lying in a heap in the corner where he'd tossed it. Swiftly she crossed to it, dropping the sheet as she went. Picking the shirt up she sniffed it… smelling him as if he were still here. Slowly she pulled it on and buttoned it… letting the smell of him surround her once more. It had been years since she'd done this… Eleanor crouched on the floor and lowered her head into her crossed arms… trying to sense him here… trying to recall his hands on her body… his kiss on her lips… the feel of him on her and in her. Softly she began to weep.

On the far side of the door… Derrick stood quietly. Slowly he reached out one hand and softly touched the wooden door. Then he dropped his hand with a sigh and retreated to his own room.


	24. Chapter 23

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Chapter 23

Tunis, North Africa, two days later

Alisaunne could hear the _mullahs_ call to evening prayer. She sat cross-legged on a mat on the roof of their house… hidden from view by both palm trees and the high exterior wall. Duncan had planned this hide-away well. The only thing it lacked… was holy ground.

"I don't believe in cowering," he'd taught her. "If a challenge comes… we meet it… head-on. Understand Alisaunne… the game _is_ what the game is. We either play by the rules or we lose ourselves to it."

So far, Alisaunne had not had to enter the game.

"You will have to soon. But first," he'd laughed, "You have a lot to learn. You can fence… but there is so much more you have to learn… and so many more weapons on which you have to train."

After getting over the initial shock of learning about the game… and what she would have to do… she'd focused on learning. Duncan's skills amazed her. As good as Daivd Maillot had been… Duncan was better… and he knew many other forms of combat. Day after day… Alisaunne found herself the focus of the Highlander's teachings. Day after day, week after week, month after month, she'd struggled to get beyond the basics… and to be able to actually compete with him.

"Again…" he'd yelled at her, "your opponent will not back off. He'll take your head and that will be it!"

So she had focused. After the first year… she'd actually managed to draw blood from his arm in a sparring match. After the second… she'd managed to extend a fight from seconds to minutes. Every day he'd set tasks… roadwork… climbing… martial arts… and in the evenings… sword practice. Just when she'd get the hang of one weapon… he'd hand her another… and then another.

"You have to learn to use what is available… You have to learn to alter your attack for different styles. If you lose your weapon during a fight… and you can only get your hands on your opponent's… you must know how to wield it. Every sword is different!"

The only bright spot in all of this had been Ian. He'd remained with them… although often going out for errands which sometimes took days… or weeks. Ian's shock of white hair had been dyed black… dark contacts usually covered his blue eyes… and his skin had been darkened. Alisaunne still recalled running her hands over it in wonder so smooth was the color. Indeed, Duncan had suggested that all of them take the drugs that would temporarily darken their skin. His dark hair, and hers, had been no problem. He'd gotten her fitted for contacts also though. "Just in case!" he'd winked at her with a laugh.

But Alisaunne had seldom been out of the compound in the time that they had been here. Duncan kept her far too busy. Some days he taught her languages… some days history… some days philosophy.

"You must be able to blend in wherever you go. You need to speak like a native… and understand even dialects as if born to them."

"How long before I know everything?" she'd asked with exasperation one day.

He'd laughed, stroking the curly black beard he now sported. "You must always be learning. But it may take years before you know even enough to safely enter the game."

A year ago she'd bested Ian. Last month… she'd bested Duncan. His eyes had widened as her blade had stopped just short of his throat. He'd waited. Alisaunne had stepped back cautiously. Duncan had rubbed his neck and then saluted her with the broadsword he was using for this session.

"When you can defeat me on a regular basis… both of us using different weapons… then… you might be ready."

And in the shadows of the night… were the whispers she'd come to understand were Nestor.

"He cannot hurt you." Duncan had reassured her.

"But why does he live?"

"He doesn't… but some part of him yet remains… trapped in the one who killed him. He holds him… until we can find a way to defeat him entirely."

"Why do I hear him… feel his touch… smell him?"

Duncan had shaken his head. "I don't know… But you said he cut himself as well as you when he attacked you… perhaps something of him… some connection we don't understand was established. I truly don't know anything else to say."

Sometimes Duncan worked on a computer game. He'd shift drawings, writings, and photographs of objects around as if seeking an answer to something. Alisaunne recognized some of the items… but truly other than realizing she must have seen them at some point… they meant nothing to her.

The Highlander had seem disappointed at that… as if hoping that perhaps she might understand what Darius had placed on the disc.

Even now… Alisaunne had difficulty with the true story of how Duncan had known her Uncle Jacques de Pres… as a priest called Darius.

"A priest?" Alisaunne had been flabbergasted. But even more so when Duncan told her how old Darius had been and she recalled her jokes about two thousand year old men teaching history.

"He was a good man, Alisaunne. I don't know where he found you or why he remained a part of your life until he died… but he left clues for us to find you… in case something happened to him."

"Am I special?"

"Aye lass…" Ian had said to her with his trademark grin. "All of us are special… but you, I think, are even more so."

Duncan had merely shaken his head. Whatever he knew or didn't know about her being special… he kept to himself. He did admit that her being able to heal before having died her first death was unusual… but he claimed not to know what that might mean.

The call to prayer ended and Alisaunne opened her eyes. The shadows lengthened. In the west… the sun half-dipped below the horizon and the light of evening seemed to show with an almost red tinge… as though the world was dipped in blood.

"Here you are," Ian said stepping out onto the roof.

"Where else would I be this time of day." Alisaunne laughed. She grasped the hilt of the _katana _and carefully inserted it into her sash. Then she did the same with the _wakizachi_, or short sword, and finally the _tanto_… her knife. Duncan had gifted her with this set recently… "I had them especially forged for your weight, size and reach. The _katana_, you'll note is slightly smaller than normal. These will be the weapons you will most want to know… the ones you should always carry with you."

Alisaunne had understood by this… that he thought she was finally ready. Soon she would enter the game.

"Shall we?" she said to Ian as she assumed a stance next to him. She'd out-distanced his abilities in the last year and he recognized that fact. Although the elder of Duncan MacLeod's two students… Ian knew Alisaunne was the Highlander's true student… he was merely the hanger-on.

"Doesn't matter," Alisaunne would whisper to Ian in the night. "I love you. I will always love you."

Ian settled beside her and then as one… they drew weapons… Ian had also recently taken up using a _katana_ rather than his old saber… as side-by-side they performed the ritual _katas_ over and over by the light of the setting sun.

Watching them from the doorway, Duncan MacLeod felt he was watching a kind of religious ceremony. Both of these young people focused on the _katas_ as if they were worshipping. He smiled. Too many of his students over the years had simply felt learning to use a sword was something one did and then they'd rushed off to join the game. Few had stayed long enough to truly become masters. Most had died early deaths. Richie had stayed… though Duncan knew that had been for friendship rather than learning. And his staying… had in the end… been disastrous. But these two… Ian had never truly had a teacher… and Alisaunne had had several very good ones during her mortal life. Now… Duncan felt neither one of them would be an easy target in the game… but he knew… the true test was yet to come.

Knowing how to wield a sword… and being able to take a head when necessary… were two different things. He disliked the idea of sending Alisaunne out to hunt… but he had to be certain she was ready. Nodding to himself, as if suddenly making up his mind, the Highlander smiled. He stepped up to Alisaunne's right as they finished one set of movements… and joined them in the next.

As the sun finally fell beneath the desert horizon and stars began to twinkle forth in the darkening sky… there they were… three immortals moving as one… in the choreographed _katas_ that were the warm-ups of the battles yet to come.


	25. Chapter 24

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Chapter 24

Paris, the next day

The band finished a set and Joe Dawson smiled and waved acknowledgment at the applause… as they left the small stage area for a break… Joe passed among the patrons over to the bar to check on stock and the register. His new bartender was working out well… but Joe still felt more comfortable checking on things for himself.

He'd turned sixty-three last month. Amy, Burt and the twins had thrown him a "retirement" party. But Joe wasn't ready to give up the bar yet.

"Hell," he'd told them, "I might still have twenty or thirty years left. How would I fill my time?" He was in good health, although his hair now was solid white. His beard still had some dark in it… but he figured that would go in time. Meanwhile… "the old man" as the band called him in jest… still played jazz and blues better than anyone around.

"When I die," he'd told Amy secretly, "I hope I'm either playing the blues or making love to a beautiful woman."

Amy had slapped his arm mockingly… and then laughed. So Joe had no plans to sell any time soon.

As he was checking receipts… he glanced up at the customer hunched over the bar with a beer in hand. Joe's eyes widened.

"Hello buddy… Glad you're still here," Methos said with a lop-sided grin, and then seemed to sink even lower on his barstool.

"Son of a bitch!" whispered Joe… and then looked around. "I don't know if anyone's in here… but you need to be careful."

"Other Watchers?" the ancient said.

"Maybe… listen," Joe grabbed a napkin and wrote an address on it. "Meet me here in an hour. We can talk. It isn't safe here." He slid the napkin toward Methos.

Methos gathered it surreptitiously into his hand and saluted with his beer. Polishing it off… he flipped up his coat collar and sauntered out casually. Joe was glad to see that no one followed him out.

An hour later at a small dive on _Rue Charles_ Joe slid into a seat at a dark corner table next to Methos.

"Were you followed?" Joe asked.

"Not so I noticed. What's up? I went by MacLeod's barge… no one was there. It looked like no one had been there in a very long time."

"Yeah… MacLeod went to Cannes a few years ago… He never came back." Joe took a sip of the beer and then pushed it away.

"Cannes? When?"

Joe took another sip and then leaned even closer. "It was February… three years ago. He stopped by to tell me he'd be gone… even invited me to go with him… and then… nothing. Amanda showed up a week later worried… Then she vanished."

"Amanda?" Methos asked… suddenly concerned as to why Amanda would have been in Paris. He suddenly wished he'd stayed in touch with Phillip or MacLeod somehow over the past few years. He'd meant to… but having the chance to have a real life with Eleanor and helping her raise Derrick had seemed far more important… and time had slipped by on him.

"Yeah… she seemed real worried about him… but didn't tell me anything." Joe glanced around… as if afraid the walls might have ears and then whispered. "How's Ellie? How's Derrick?"

Methos fingered his beer thoughtfully, and then raised it to his lips. "They're both fine."

"They better be! You treat her badly or break her heart and I'll have your head! And you know I'm one of the few mortals on this planet who'd know how to arrange that!"

Methos grinned, "I'll keep that in mind. Really… she's fine. Besides, Joe… if I were to break her heart… I'd have to break mine as well." He polished off the beer and set it before him. "What about Watcher records? Has no one seen him? Did he leave here with anyone?"

"I'm not a Watcher anymore."

Methos sobered and stared. "What?… What happened?"

"Seems the new Council didn't take too well with my helping you guys with the Nestor affair. They thought I should have been a little more forthcoming with information than I was. They busted my ass."

"I'm so sorry Joe."

Joe waved it off. "Not your fault. I was in over my head and was so concerned about you guys… I lost my perspective. They were right to can me. But they also took it out on Amy. Transferred her to general research."

Methos shook his head. "I am sorry Joe."

"Thing is, " Joe leaned in closely once again, "They may have made a mistake. If they'd left her researching just your chronicle… she might not now be in a spot to know things."

"What things?" Methos leaned closely as well. Joe had his full attention.

Joe glanced around again and then continued, "Immortals everywhere are vanishing… and Amy thinks the new Watcher Council may be behind it."

"A new Sanctuary project?"

Joe shook his head. "I doesn't think so… but something is happening. She's noticed that there is a flurry of activity about an active immortal… and then _poof_… no more immortal. They vanish. No confirmed death… just no more immortal."

Methos leaned back in his chair. He'd wanted to talk to MacLeod. Now… Methos was likely alone in what he had to do. He'd already determined that neither Alisaunne nor Ian was in Paris… If MacLeod had vanished… would Ian have had enough sense to get Alisaunne to someplace safe? If Amanda had been in Paris looking for MacLeod… was it because of MacLeod's disappearance… or something else? He rubbed one hand through his hair… feeling the slight sensation of Eleanor just behind him… just over his shoulder. He could smell her and feel the touch of her at the edge of his mind and along his back beneath his clothes. Gods! He wanted to acknowledge her presence. He wanted to share thoughts with her. She was his anchor and his balance these days… ever since that last quickening. But he had to keep her at arm's length… just a little longer. Just a few more days… then he could go home to her and tell her everything.

"Thanks Joe… Does the fact we are meeting here mean you think you're being watched as well?"

"Yeah… I think so… I don't think I was followed here… But you need to leave by the back door and get out of Paris. Here… he slipped Methos a piece of paper. Memorize it. It's a new cell phone number I got recently. No one has the number but me. I've made no calls from it. Call me… if you need anything."

Methos crumpled the paper into his hand and then patted Joe on the shoulder. "Thanks buddy, I really appreciate this."

"Just so you know… I'm not doing this for you… I'm doing it so Ellie will be safe. No one knows about her… not from me. You keep her safe… you hear me."

Methos nodded. "I promise." He rose and slipped out the back of the bar… leaving Joe Dawson to order another round of beers… and sit for a while… as if waiting for his return.


	26. Chapter 25

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Chapter 25

Geneva, the following evening

Methos had meant to be in Geneva early enough to get into his postal box… but he'd been delayed. He'd driven first to the convent of _Ste. Genevieve_ where he'd been faced with a puzzle. All the inhabitants had vanished. There was no sign of any foul play… just no one there.

He'd spent a few hours creeping about the old convent and decided that the relatively recent paint job indicated the others had left recently… hastily… but not as if in a great panic.

There were some indications that something had happened in the courtyard… but whatever it had been… had been cleaned up. He did note some dried blood on the ground in a few spots.

"Damn it Amanda! And damn you MacLeod… what happened here?" He'd trusted them to stay on top of things… What had gone wrong? Would they have contacted Phillip? Perhaps he needed to contact Phillip himself and see what his friend knew. Fears that Nestor might have gotten loose… or worse… be in the hands of someone else bothered him. His unease evidently was leaching through his wall to Eleanor. He could sense her worry and curiosity. Methos steeled himself and focused instead on searching through each room… but came up empty-handed. Finally… seeing nothing… he'd hit the road trying to reach Geneva before the postal center closed for the day. He'd missed it be less than half an hour.

At that he'd sat in his car and considered his next course of action. He'd have to wait until tomorrow morning. Once he had the letters… and he inwardly cursed himself once more for not having retrieved them years ago… he'd return home. He likely had been gone too long already. Whatever was happening… he needed to get home before something happened there. It was likely time to move. Perhaps Niebos? He'd always intended to take Derrick there eventually… now might be the best time. The boy still wasn't ready… but Methos knew he already knew about… or at least suspected his latent immortality. It was best to get him to Phillip for proper training as soon as possible.

Slumped down in the driver's seat of his rental car… Methos ran one hand over his forehead as he tried to plan. He'd been having trouble thinking things through for some time. The events of recent days had made his focus on future plans more than just a little fuzzy. Methos leaned back… aware there was a slight throb of a headache… With both hands he rubbed his eyes and face… opening the link to Eleanor ever so slightly. Immediately she was with him… and the ache began to fade.

"_Come back to me!_" he could feel her say.

"_Soon, very soon,_" he thought and slowly rebuilt the wall against her pleas not to. But at least his headache was gone. Likely the stress of keeping it up so long was beginning to tire him. But the letters first. He had to know what was in them before he let them down. He did not want Eleanor exposed to his suspicions before he knew if they were true. Methos started the ignition and drove toward an area of town that had out of the way hostels and good food. He needed a meal and a good night's sleep.

Sitting in the shadows of the common room of the hostel, Keith Boyer was mainly just trying to stay out of everyone's way. He'd had a feeling for the past few years that someone was after him. He'd fled the States and had been attempting to lose himself in Europe. His relative youth let him get by as just another backpacking college kid. The main thing was to stay away from the types of places immortals frequented. From what he'd been able to gather as he'd traveled… the winners of challenges were vanishing. Keith had acquired quite the reputation among younger immortals as a headhunter… but among the older ones of his kind… he knew he was likely little more than a gnat. Still… right now… right this day… he'd decided avoiding challenges was far safer than headhunting… no matter who he found. Thus, Keith Boyer was surprised to look up to see an immortal enter the hostel.

The man glanced with hooded eyes about the room and then saw Keith in his corner. The man nodded and turned to talk to the desk clerk. Keith sat nervously… wondering what would happen. This fellow didn't seem like much… but these days… sometimes it was hard to tell… and he did seem to have a very strong presence.

The man headed to the dining room for a meal.

Keith considered what to do… finally deciding that knowledge was more important than running… followed the man into the dining room. He stood by the man's out-of-the-way table. "Excuse me, have we met?"

The man looked at him darkly, "Not likely." He returned his attention to the menu.

"I'm Keith Boyer… do we have a problem?"

"Not unless you want to make it one."

Keith stood aside when a waitress approached and took the man's order. She glanced at Keith, "Are you eating too?"

Keith shook his head. She left.

"Look…" the man said. "I'm here for a meal and a bed… I don't need trouble right now."

Keith shrugged. "Fine by me." He walked out, already considering that perhaps he might find another bed for the night. As he left the hostel, backpack over his shoulder, he noticed a woman on a cell phone talking quietly and glancing up at him as he left. Keith was nervous about that. He didn't like being noticed by anyone. He hurried into the growing darkness… and then slipped into a nearby alley to see if he was being followed. He wasn't. Sighing with relief… he headed into the night.

Methos ate hurriedly. "Damn!" he hadn't thought another immortal might be in this area. He'd eat… he needed to eat… but then he was out of here. He decided that leaving was more important than staying. If necessary… he'd sleep in his car. That might be best anyway. He could drive back to the postal center and wait for it to open… gather his mail and be gone before the day was much advanced. He finished eating… and left.

He failed to notice the woman in the corner talking on a cell phone.

As Methos drove away from the hostel… back the way he'd come… he noted Keith Boyer's presence as the young immortal hiked along the side of the road. Boyer noticed him too. After passing him… Methos tried to consider what to do. He didn't want a fight… he didn't want to chance it… but neither did he want this young man on his tail. He pulled over to the side of the road and got out.

Boyer came closer… his sword already evident in his hand.

"I'm not after you Boyer… we just both happen to be going the same way. After meeting you… I decided not to stay… that's all. If you wish to go back… I won't follow."

"Who are you?"

"Someone who has your best interests at heart. Go back to the hostel. I will not bother you. I have no desire for a confrontation… here… or anywhere." Methos waited… ready to move… ready to defend himself if necessary.

Boyer paused, staring intently at the other immortal. Finally his hand relaxed from his sword hilt. "I'll hold you to that. But I'm certain you won't mind if I don't go back… I think I'll find another safe haven."

Methos nodded as he watched the young man walk away. Turning… he put both hands on the roof of the rental car and breathed slow and evenly. "_That was too damned close!_" he thought. Once certain Boyer had left… the ancient climbed into the rental and proceeded on his way.

He came to a stop near the postal facility and turned the motor off… slumping down into the seat to catch a nap. He could almost smell honey and hear the soft laughter of Eleanor all about him… teasing him… drawing him back to her. His eyes snapped open as he felt another immortal nearby. "Boyer!" he spat and climbed out once more… his broadsword already in his hand. But it wasn't Boyer.

The small dark-haired woman stared at him hatefully. "Edmund LeGris?" she spat and then smiled as she pulled her rapier out. "Long have I searched for you… and here you are at last. _En guarde monsieur_."

Methos sighed. This was one fight he did not think he could avoid. "Felice Martin…" he sneered. "Has no one taken that worthless head of yours, yet?"

"Many have tried LeGris… and many have failed. But now at last I shall add you to my collection. I killed her you know… that pretty little thing you were so fond of so long ago… I took great pleasure in it. I ran my dagger across her mortal neck and wiped her blood on the walls for you to find. I am only surprised it took you so long to gather the courage to face me." She swept her rapier back and forth and circled around in the darkness… glaring at him.

"Still playing the old games, Felice? Still killing the mortals our kind care for, so that we are easier for you to kill? One would think after so long… you'd have learned more than that." Methos' voice was as bitter as the bile that rose in his throat. He had not thought of Eloise in centuries… but face to face with her murderer… her death hit him like a raw wound.

"You have been a hard man to draw out!" Felice stood so that the street light at her back made her difficult for Methos to clearly see. "I'd given you up for dead long ago." She lunged forward.

Methos quickly countered her stroke and then lunged toward her with one of his own. She retreated… again managing to keep the streetlight behind her. In the distance… Methos thought he could hear thunder. "Even the heavens approve of this meeting," he said bitterly as he attacked her again…left… right… He backed her up with several strong strokes.

She countered and moved backward… as if drawing him into a secluded alleyway. Methos grinned grimly and backed up, his broadsword swiveling in his hand… the reflections on it from the streetlight… flashing across her eyes. Felice flinched, and shifted position so that she was no longer before the light.

"Playing games… this is so like you LeGris. As I recall… you were quite the gambler once upon a time." She attacked once more as the first raindrops began to fall… heavy droplets… then a sudden downpour.

Methos almost laughed aloud. "I'm not a gambler… Felice… I don't like to lose." He attacked her as lightning crackled in the sky and the thunder boomed around them. The rain made the road slippery… and in the darkness… it was harder to see. The force of his blows surprised her.

Felice… stumbled… pulling a small Derringer as she fell to her knees. She fired both shots directly at LeGris' stomach. The man paused from the force of the blow, glared at her and then came at her again with a snarl… She had one moment to note the glare of the streetlight on the blade before it connected with her neck.

Methos held his hand to his stomach… grimacing at the pain. Already he could see the first signs of the quickening rising from Felice Martin's body. Lightning crashed from the storm as he stumbled backward. But Methos knew there was no escape. Even as he fell to his knees to accept what could not be denied… he let the walls in his mind fall and reached out for Eleanor. "_Help me! Be with me!_" he thought… and just before both darkness and the quickening took him… he knew she was.

--------------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Keith Boyer** is a minor canon character who does not appear in the series, but is mentioned in the third season episode _They Also Serve_. His bio appears on **The New Watcher Chronicles** cd-rom. This characterization is drawn from the information there.


	27. Chapter 26

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Chapter 26

Scotland

In the three days since Methos had left… Eleanor had rarely moved… nor had she left their room. For most of the time she'd crouched on the floor, rocking back and forth… trying desperately to be with him. "_Why?_" she kept trying to find out… but other than an occasional acknowledgment that he knew she was there… his mind remained hidden from her.

At some point… she had slept… because she'd been awakened by a soft knock on the door.

"Ellie… please… you need to eat," Derrick pleaded from the far side of the door.

"Leave me alone!" she'd screamed… not so much angry with him as angry that he was the one who was here… the reason Methos had made her remain behind.

Earlier today he'd tried again. This time she'd flung open the door to glare at him. "What part of leave me alone do you not understand?" she'd snapped and then paused… aware suddenly that he was staring at her open-mouthed. Eleanor looked down to realize she was wearing only Methos' shirt… as she had once done so often. She backed up and closed the door one more. This was not solving anything.

She'd tried once more to reach Methos… aware only that he was fine. Her head hurt. She was hungry… she was tired… and she felt completely out of sorts. Slowly she rose… pouring water into the bowl and washing her face. Next she picked up a brush to run it through her hair… aware that in the aftermath of the fire and the strange healing… it had grown back… as if it had never burned. Swiftly she pulled on a pair of jeans… but she was unwilling to remove his shirt just yet.

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror she smiled at what she saw. She cut a strange figure in the too big shirt, bare feet and jeans… her long hair hanging about her shoulders in an unruly manner. Still… it was who she was. She opened the door.

Derrick was seated near the fire. When he heard her enter, he leaned back in his chair in a posture Eleanor found all too familiar… as he regarded her.

Eleanor forced a smile. "You're right Derrick… I'm being silly and I do need to eat something.

Derrick leapt up eagerly and began to dip some soup into a bowl for her. "I hope you like it… I tried to make it like you do." Once more he seemed only a younger brother attempting to please or comfort his distraught older sister. The one moment when he'd seemed eerily like Darius had passed. He handed her the bowl of soup as she sat at the table.

Their fingers touched briefly. Eleanor closed her eyes and shook her head… then opened them to smile. "Thanks… I'm sure it's fine." She began to eat… noting it was much tastier than anything she had ever managed. She laughed. "Well it seems I've done my job…" When he looked at her quizzically she smiled. "Despite my limitations on the subject, I've managed to teach you to cook. At least you'll never starve to death."

Derrick's cheeks reddened. He set a loaf of hard bread on the table with a knife, then sat opposite her at the table. "He'll be back… he just wanted to check on something. Adam will be back Ellie… He promised."

Eleanor nodded and finished her soup quietly. By the time she'd finished… it was dark outside. She still seemed to have a headache… likely a result of her attempts to reach Methos non-stop. Maybe she needed to pull back some. Had it been like this for Gael, she wondered. But no… Gael had not cared if D'jann had gone… nor if he'd return. At any rate… Methos would be back… in a few more days… he'd promised. Even as she made her decision… she felt him for the briefest moment… he missed her. Eleanor closed her eyes and focused on the tendril of his thought even as it drifted away. If she'd been paying attention… she might have slipped through his wall and joined with him once more. She'd not miss another chance.

"Thanks for the soup, Derrck… You really are a sweet boy." Eleanor turned to re-enter her room… softly closing the door. Climbing onto the bed… she curled around a pillow and hugged it to her tightly. Focusing all her thought… she followed the tendril of fading thought until she was at the wall. There… she waited.

"_Come back to me!_" she whispered.

"_Soon… very soon_!" she heard him reply.

Comforted she settled into a light doze. No longer straining to be with him… but completely open to fully accept whatever or whenever he would think of her. Slowly the headache lessened… and she felt euphoric. She could almost imagine him driving in the darkness… stopping to talk to someone… driving further… thinking of her… waiting… Suddenly someone was there. He was angry… so very angry… The world was awash in colors of red and black. Eleanor rolled over in the nightmare… throwing her arms about as if fighting… kicking… avoiding the blade that flashed and struck her own. Again and again the blades clashed in the darkness… sparks in the night. Pain exploded about her… and then she could see the quickening. In that moment… she was with him… struggling as he struggled amidst the flashing images of pain and hatred and need… Eleanor embraced the images and found herself screaming into the darkness.

----------

Hearing the screams from his room, Derrick came running on the double. He found Eleanor on the floor of her room snarling and flailing about as if caught in something he could not see.

"Ellie!" he cried and tried to stop her movement. His face stung by the force of her blow. Derrick stepped back shaking his head. Ellie stood before him… her arm drawn back… her eyes wild and unfocused. Her breath came as a hiss. She backed away and then raced past him out of the room… out of the house… out into the yard.

He followed her, wiping away the blood streaming from his nose.

In the center of the courtyard she fell to her knees screaming… and then collapsed into the dirt. Gingerly… his face still throbbing from her blow… Derrick approached the petite immortal. She lay on her side unconscious. Derrick rolled her onto her back… but there was no indication of conscious thought. Gathering her into his arms, the boy carried back into the house to lay her on her bed. He ran his fingers slowly over her face… so calm now… no sign of what he'd earlier seen. She whimpered… one hand groped for his and clenched it tightly.

Derrick pulled up a chair and sat there through the night… letting her hold his hand. Once he thought he heard her say something… but it was not to him. "Darius," she whispered in her sleep…"I love him… I miss him… How could he do this?" Derrick sighed. He wasn't this Darius she used to know… and from what little he did know… he wasn't so certain this immortal had been good for Ellie. He had the strangest impression that the man had done something that even his memories felt regret over.

"Don't worry Ellie… Adam will be back… I know he will be… He has to be."

At some point… Derrick lay his head on the edge of the bed and slept.

When he woke… sunlight was streaming through the window. Derrick sat up stretching. His back hurt from the position he'd slept in. Ellie was still asleep. At some point… she'd released his hand and rolled over… curled into a ball.

Running a hand through his sandy hair with a sigh, Derrick rose and softly left the room. It was morning… there were chores to do… no matter what… horses to be fed… eggs to be gathered, cows to be milked. He should have been up long before this. Methos had warned him to keep everything running smoothly during his absence. Derrick intended that when the immortal returned… he'd find everything as it should be.

Outside the warm April morning held a hint of the warmer weather to come. Derrick concentrated on his chores, losing himself in the familiar tasks. He'd just finished when he noticed Ellie standing in the center of the courtyard… facing south.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked as he came up behind her… painfully aware suddenly how small she seemed to him.

"Adam taught you to drive… right."

"Yes…" Derrick's voice trailed off… He wasn't certain she was supposed to know that.

Ellie looked up at him. "Something's wrong. Something has happened. I'm going after him. Bring the Land Rover out and get it ready… you're driving me."

"We can't just leave. He'll be back… We should wait."

"Either bring it out and drive me or I will walk." Ellie's voice was clipped and determined.

"What about the animals… we can't just leave them."

Eleanor laughed harshly. "We can stop at the caretaker's house. They know how to handle things here… they know Adam often leaves here for years at a time… suddenly and without notice. Now… are you driving me… or am I walking?"

Derrick stared at her and then nodded. "I'll drive you."

Ellie went back into the house to change her clothes. Derrick pulled the Rover out into the yard. He hoped Methos wouldn't kill him for agreeing with her so quickly… but he'd had a feeling Ellie really would have left… and Derrick feared what might happen to her if she were alone. He knew she was a capable immortal. He knew and had seen her fight, meeting a challenge and taking a head… but he'd also seen her when they'd been on the streets and running. As capable as Ellie could be… Derrick worried that the vulnerable Ellie might be the one on the road alone. He was bigger now. He could help… she didn't have to protect him.

Dressed in clean jeans, a long sleeve navy turtleneck, her over-sized jacket, and her sneakers, Ellie came out with a duffel bag. "Let's go," she snapped, climbing into the front passenger seat. Her long black hair was tied back.

"I have some things in my room I need to get."

"I already have them." She met his gaze and smiled thinly. "Sword, stone, computer and a change of clothes… Is there anything else you need?"

Derrick shook his head and climbed in. He inserted the key into the ignition and glanced at her. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes… something is wrong… something he didn't expect. He needs me…"

Derrick nodded and pulled out of the courtyard, heading for the road.


	28. Chapter 27

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Chapter 27

Tunis

Alisaunne struggled through the nightmare. Once more she was lost in a suffocating stench of sewage and rot. Once more she felt the harsh feel of ghostly hands… stroking her… a tongue licking her… teeth biting her… she could hear moans of pleasure as something spent itself against her… and she was powerless to prevent it.

She struggled away… aware that she tasted blood in her mouth… "_Must have bit my tongue_," she thought… aware that she felt as violated as she did most nights she had the dream. She swung her legs out of the bed as she grabbed a robe and padded silently down the hall… hoping she hadn't awakened Ian.

She entered the small kitchen and stood with the refrigerator door open… just staring at what was there. Alisaunne closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of cold air. A light switched on. Looking up she saw Duncan.

"Sorry… I couldn't sleep," she murmured, reaching to get a beer. "Want one?"

Duncan settled into a chair. "Sure… sounds good."

Alisaunne grabbed two, handing one to Duncan as she settled into the other chair. She pulled the robe around her… tying the sash. "I had another dream."

"I thought as much when I heard you in the hall. Do you want to talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about. It's the same as always. I can't tell if it's my memory of the attack or something else. All I know is it feels real. You wanted me to tell you when I had the dreams. So I'm telling you." Alisaunne shifted uncomfortably in the chair. She picked up the beer and stared at it soberly… then set it down. "When does it end, Duncan? When does it go away so I can move on with my life?"

"I don't know. I wish I knew someone you could talk to about some of this… but I don't. Not any more."

"What was he… a psychiatrist for immortals?"

Duncan stared at her sadly… then nodded. "As a matter of fact… he was."

"And someone killed him. They challenged him and took his head… and killed him for no more reason that that there is some game we have to play… and the winner takes his enemy's head."

Duncan reached for the beer, opened it and drank half of it down. "Yes," he finally said hoarsely… as if the memory were something still too painful to acknowledge.

"I'm sorry Duncan… it's just sometimes I find this whole concept of kill or be killed obscene." She leaned her elbows on the table and placed her head in her upraised hands. "It all still sounds like some nightmare from another day and age." She looked at him levelly. "Why does it have to be this way? What if we just say… no… I won't… and walk away? Has it ever been tried? I mean really tried?"

Duncan considered the beer thoughtfully. "Several times… but those who advocated change were usually the first to die."

"So we have to be ready."

Duncan nodded.

"And I have to go kill a man today."

Again Duncan nodded… but he refused to meet her gaze. "I have to be certain, Alisaunne that you can do this. Normally I wouldn't advocate your seeking any immortal's head if it could be avoided… but I need to know you can take the final swing if you need to."

"And you think Ahmoud Hassan is the one I need to kill." Alisaunne's voice was flat.

Duncan polished off the beer and set the empty bottle on the table. "He's older than you… but he's not greatly experienced. He has taken a few heads… but not lately."

Alisaunne continued for him. "Lately he's been working with a terrorist cell and planting bombs." She grimaced. "He's a bad person. He kills mortals with little regard for anyone's safety. I did read the file. Ian's reports were most thorough." She sat back dejectedly… once more fingering her as yet untouched beer. "But do I have the right to judge his actions?"

"He's a thief and a murderer Alisaunne."

"But does he deserve death? Is he worth my risking my life? I wonder!" She opened the beer and downed the entire bottle in a single gulp. Her shoulders shivered. "I don't know if I can do this."

Duncan rose slowly and turned to leave. He paused at the door. "If you're not ready… then you're not ready. Only you know the answer to that for certain. I'm not making you go… but one day you will have to enter the game… You won't have a choice… either in walking away… or in the time, the place, and the opponent. I fear you will wonder if you can take that final stroke. I'd rather you do it now… with an opponent I feel comfortable that you can beat. Once this is over… you'll be ready to be on your own… live whatever life you want to try for. Create a new identity… go wherever you want. But until you can do this… you need to stay here." He paused… a small smile playing across his lips and his tone lightened. "But I think you're ready… you are more than ready." He left her then.

Alisaunne gathered both bottles and carefully placed them in the recycling bin. Turning out the light… she returned to her room, dropped her robe to the floor, and crawled into bed next to Ian. Snuggling up against his warm skin she let her hands drift over his lean body until he began to respond to her touch.

"I love waking up to you," he murmured sleepily. "Is it morning?"

"Not yet… but I don't want to waste this night sleeping." She hungrily found his mouth… darting her tongue teasingly into his mouth and then pulling aside to kiss his cheek and blow in his ear. All the while her hands stroked up and down him until he responded with a groan. Then he reached for her… as hungry for her… as she was for him.

As the sun rose… sometime later… Alisaunne lay curled in Ian's embrace. "I'm frightened… what's it like?"

"It's wonderful and scary and filled with glory and pain."

"And you've done this."

"Three times. I spent most of my time at _Ste. Genevieve_… but I'd taken two before I found my way there."

"And the third." She stretched next to him… once more running her fingers along his chest.

"While I was with you in Paris… well… not with you at the time… You were in class." He laughed as her hand ran teasingly along the inside of his thigh. "Are you ever satisfied?"

"No… I will always want more…"

"Then lass… I shall endeavor to keep you happy." He rolled onto her and began to rain kisses on her. Letting his tongue speak for him… as his kisses slowly made their way down her body. Finally satisfied that she was ready… he entered her… wondering how it was that he, Ian Daffyd, had been so lucky as to win the love of the most wonderful girl he'd ever met.

-----

In his room… Duncan MacLeod had not returned to bed. Instead… he sat in his desk chair staring at the computer game on his old laptop. It was the only thing on there now. He'd erased everything else or transferred it to a newer model… but this he left here… fearful that if he messed it up in trying to transfer it to something smaller… he'd lose it. Besides… it was an old friend. If he'd hoped years ago at Waterloo that Derrick would know what they were looking for… and where to find it… he'd been disappointed. The boy knew nothing apparently… at least not then… nothing about where either the research… or another clue might be hidden.

With time… the boy might recall. Duncan flipped a few more pages… turning them… left… right… upside down… inside out… seeking a relationship with any of the others. It had been years since he'd last made any real progress… as though the game was sentient and waited for the proper moment to reveal itself. Derrick had some of Darius' memories… this Duncan knew… but the boy was still a boy… confused and frightened by much that he seemed to know and not know.

Derrick needed time. Duncan… had agreed to give him time. For the chance to re-meet and re-acquaint himself with his Ancient friend… even as only memories reborn into a small boy… Duncan would do whatever he needed to do. Derrick needed time to grow up… Duncan was providing it by watching over Alisaunne… first as she finished her mortal existence… and now… as she began her immortal life. He'd dedicated himself to training her… to the exclusion of all else.

At first, he'd considered contacting Phillip about training her… but Alisaunne did not know Phillip… not really… so Duncan had kept her with him. He had asked the Greek to keep an eye on Amanda and those at the convent.

Duncan shut the computer off and opened a drawer… pulling out an old leather wallet. He seldom carried it now unless he needed to. Opening it… he saw first the faded snapshot of Tessa. She was standing before one of her pieces… smiling into the camera… her eyes filled with love. Duncan had been holding the camera. Sadly his thumb caressed the fading image of her face. But she was his past. Tessa was mortal… Tessa was dead. He could not cling to her memory in the vain hope of finding her again.

He dug deeper and pulled out a strip of black and white photos taken at one of those boardwalk instant camera booths. He and Amanda had gone there one afternoon when they'd been together… long before she'd met Nick Wolfe. In the first three pictures the two of them mugged at the camera… sticking out tongues, crossing eyes, holding fingers up behind one another's heads. He unfolded the strip. In the fourth one Amanda stared into the camera thoughtfully… behind her, he was staring at her… as if seeing her for the first time. In the last picture… he was kissing her. If Duncan closed his eyes… he could still feel that kiss… True… afterwards… they'd started joking around again… but for that one moment… their entire existence and relationship had been caught up in that one kiss.

Duncan replaced the photos as he closed the wallet… returning it to the drawer. He'd failed Amanda. He'd run out on her when she needed him. Alisaunne's rebirth and training were too important to just hand off. Ian couldn't teach her… that much was certainly true in the last year once she had outstripped his abilities. She had a gift for the blade that few of their kind had. But Duncan needed to know that she could take the final stroke.

Phillip was likely at _Ste. Genevieve_. Amanda wasn't alone… but Duncan still felt guilt that he hadn't raced to her side… that he wasn't there for her to rely on. Once Alisaunne had taken her first head… Duncan planned on returning to Europe. He missed Amanda… he wanted to be with her… even if that meant they lived at the convent. He wanted her in his life… and he would do whatever it would take for her to accept him there. He was weary of being alone. Besides… he knew he needed to get away from Alisaunne and Ian… especially from Alisaunne.

Down the hall he could hear the sounds of Ian and Alisaunne making love. Several times in the past few years… he'd found himself considering sending Ian on some errand that might cost the young man his head. Then, Duncan had thought, he could comfort Alisaunne… Thankfully it had never been more than an idle thought. That he wanted her… that he wanted her to want him… Duncan admitted only to himself. There was something about the young woman that made him want to turn loose his darkest desires, and just take her. It was only his love for Amanda and his basic sense of honor that had stopped him. But at times like this… Duncan truly wished he weren't alone.

For a moment he considered his wild side… the one who truly enjoyed just jetting about the world and taking beautiful and remarkable women to his bed… women who were content to be with him once and then let him go. For a moment Duncan considered the last woman he'd had… the remarkably gifted Meaghann Reilly. Even now… his body longed to respond to things she'd done. But he hadn't loved Meaghann… indeed… he hadn't truly known her. She had just been one for the evening. Yet even now… the memory of her remained with him. Perhaps before going to _Ste. Genevieve_… he'd look up Meaghann first… or someone like her.

Through the fretted window… Duncan could see dawn break in the east and hear the sounds of daily life returning to Tunis. Perhaps as early as tonight… he'd be on a plane to France… back to his life… He hoped so… he truly hoped so.


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Southern England

Derrick stopped for petrol at a small roadside station and convenience store.

"You pump… I'll pay," Ellie murmured as she headed inside, her dark hair covered by a baseball cap, her green eyes by dark sunglasses. Beneath her oversized jacket, the boy knew she wore her knives. Derrick nodded and filled the tank. He, too, wore a hat and sunglasses, purchased at their last stop for fuel. When finished… he checked the oil, the tires, and cleaned the windshield… all things Methos had taught him about. He missed his friend… but he had a feeling Methos would not be pleased with Ellie's course of action. He'd expected Derrick to keep her safely on the farm… but here they were… heading back to France. Ellie and Methos had been tutoring him in French… but somehow… he thought he wouldn't have any trouble with the language. Darius had lived in Paris for centuries… Derrick felt those memories of the language would likely come to play once he was exposed to the language again… really exposed to it. They'd likely be there late tonight or early tomorrow.

Ellie wasn't advocating any stops or layovers. Her eyes remained focused on the road ahead… and on finding Methos. Derrick did not doubt that something unforeseen had happened… that much had been clear in Ellie's actions of that last night on the farm. Something had happened that Methos had not expected… and he might truly need Ellie's help… except… was this what they should be doing? She had not had any additional episodes of not knowing where she was… but Derrick didn't know if that was good or bad. He glanced up as Ellie exited the store… a bag of food and drinks in hand. They'd eat on the road… she didn't want to waste any time in getting to the continent.

Derrick was just pulling out when Ellie tensed and looked around… her eyes finally alighting on an Aston-Martin just pulling into the lot… evidently for gas. "Drive Derrick… drive now."

Derrick hit the accelerator as he pulled out once more onto the highway. "Immortal?" he asked and watched Ellie nod.

"It's likely nothing… but I don't want to be delayed." They continued to head south.

-----

Several miles behind them… the Aston-Martin followed, it's driver intrigued by what he'd momentarily felt as the Land Rover had pulled out. A presence, stronger than normal… bewitching in its feel, mesmerizing, intoxicating… it had called to him on a very basic level that he did not fully understand. He'd gassed up in a hurry… anxious to follow… eager to find the immortal he'd sensed.

-----

****

Paris, the following day

The journey through the chunnel had been remarkably uneventful. Derrick had thought they would take the ferry as they had done on the journey north eight years ago… but Eleanor had decided this was faster.

"It's night… you wouldn't see anything by ferry ride anyway." She sat quietly beside Derrick… her eyes closed… as if she were still focusing on something. Occasionally she looked behind them… as if sensing another immortal… but when she did so… she simply encouraged him to speed up a bit. "Not so it's dangerous… or enough to get us noticed… but a little."

Derrick simply did what she requested. He felt that to argue with her… to insist they stop somewhere… would get him no where. But he was tired, he was hungry… and he really needed to stop for a while.

"We need to stop, Ellie, I'm really done in," he finally said about an hour after they'd passed into France.

Ellie looked behind them and pursed her brows thoughtfully. "Soon Derrick… but not yet. Keep moving unless we need fuel."

"You think that immortal is still on our trail?"

She looked at him. "I don't know if it's the same one… but I want to get to Paris. I know the city well… we can lose him there. Out here… on the road… it's not safe."

Derrick nodded and kept driving. It was the middle of the night… he was nearly asleep at the wheel when he began to notice that they had passed into the suburbs of a major metropolitan area. "Paris?" he asked.

"Paris…" she smiled.

Sometime later she had him park on a side street in the old part of the city.

"Don't leave anything behind that can identify us," Eleanor said as she got out… grabbing their meagre belongings. She leaned in and removed the paperwork from the glovebox. "Lock the door."

"What if it gets towed?" Derrick asked, worried about what Methos would think about losing the Rover.

"It's not important. It ought to be safe on this spot for a few days. We can move it if we need to." She shouldered the backpack she carried and tossed him the duffel that he knew contained his sword. "I have a place near here. We can sleep there."

She walked quickly away. Derrick followed stumbling slightly in his exhaustion. His head ached, his eyes were burning, his hands shivered slightly from having gripped the steering wheel for so long. And… he was hungry. He hoped she remembered he was hungry.

Several blocks later she paused in the shadow of an old stone building and stood staring at what appeared to Derrick to be an old church.

"Is that where we are headed?"

Eleanor laughed. "No… but I do need to get my key. Stay close and stay quiet… I don't want to alert anyone of our presence in the church. Ready?" She crossed the street… Derrick closely behind her, walked up to the church doors, and entered the dim building. A few candles were lit in one area… but the church was deserted and dark. Eleanor headed immediately for a nearby apse.

Derrick stared about him… both knowing and not knowing this church. Had he been here before? He had a memory of Phillip bringing him here… but there was something else… something in the way the church looked at night… something familiar. He dropped the duffel and slowly walked to a side chapel where he stared at the floor… broken flagstones… worn… one area scorched as if there had been a fire here at one time. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest… Something had happened here… something long ago.

Softly he felt Eleanor's hand on his arm. He stared at her. "Are you all right, baby? Is anything wrong?"

Derrick smiled sadly. "I'm fine. This is where Darius died… isn't it?"

Eleanor looked about the church. Derrick could see tears sparkle in her eyes in the faint candlelight. "This is where he lived." she finally said. "Let's go… there's nothing here for either of us… not any more." Pulling at his arm… she headed for the door. Derrick picked up the duffel and with only one short glance over his shoulder… left the church. She was right… there was nothing here for him.

Once across the street, Ellie headed into a covered archway between two buildings. At the end of it was an iron gate. She used the key and swung the gate open. Standing back, she motioned him in. As Derrick walked slowly into a wooded grove… a small natural garden in the midst of downtown Paris, he could hear water running and saw a bubbling spring amongst some rocks. Behind him Ellie closed and locked the gate.

"We have to be quiet so the tenants don't hear us… but…" she spread her arms. "What do you think?"

Derrick looked about at the stunted trees, the leaf-strewn clearing, and the high walls and shrugged. "You live under the trees?"

Ellie laughed. "No silly… upstairs… but this is my garden. Not even Methos has ever been here. This was my place for almost eight hundred years. A sanctuary from the horror of the world outside."

"You always lived here?"

"Well," she chuckled, "not always. But when I was in Paris… I could always come here… I always had a home… except for a time about a hundred years ago." She touched his arm. "Come on… I'll take you upstairs."

She led the way up narrow stone stairs to a second story and opened a door. She flipped a light switch and smiled when the one small bulb hanging from the center of the room came on. "When the apartment downstairs… the one that faces the street… was wired… we ran a line up here."

"Who lives downstairs?"

"A caretaker and his family… At least that was who was here eight years ago. They get free rent for keeping an eye on the building and upkeep. Taxes are paid through a holding company. Darius set it all up centuries ago."

"He visited you here?"

Eleanor turned to face him and smiled. "Yes… he used to work on that computer game of yours here… before there were ever computers. It was a puzzle he never solved." She reached over behind a small refrigerator and plugged it in. "We might need this… though it's been eighteen years since it last held any food. Ahh… it still works." She laughed and ran her hands over a dusty counter. "I may have to do some cleaning."

"Where do I sleep?"

Eleanor looked at him solemnly. "I forgot about that. I have a bed in the other room… why don't you take it tonight. I'm not tired… and I need to focus so I can try to locate Methos from here." She gestured toward a door.

"And food? Ellie… I am really hungry." Derrick rubbed one hand over his growling stomach.

"I'll get you something… Go… lie down… Get some sleep."

Derrick didn't argue. He was as tired as he was hungry. In the other room… there was no electricity. But it didn't matter… all he needed was the bed. He flung himself on it… noting its narrowness and small overall size. His feet hung off the end. When he landed… he almost sneezed from the dust in the bed linens. He was too tired to care… and let sleep take him.

But in dreams… he still seemed to be driving… ever driving… and the lines on the road flashed by as he drove.


	30. Chapter 29

****

Chapter 29

Tunis

Ahmoud Hassan expertly attached the wires to the bomb and smiled. Another bomb… another martyr to the cause… another explosion. If he were lucky… many people would die this day. And while the authorities were focused on the explosion… he could safely rob a nearby currency exchange. Few if any would think the robbery was anything more than the result of lawlessness and confusion after the bombing. That it was the purpose of the bomb… no one but Hassan would know. With the money… part would go into his "retirement" fund… and the rest for more supplies… for more bombs… and to support the families of his little band of martyrs.

Hassan had learned decades ago… that only fools follow a cause blindly. He was more interested in obtaining wealth… but he could use the prevailing "cause" of the day to recruit fools to do the dying. The world was full of fools.

He was soldering another connection when he felt the immortal. Carefully he set the iron down and stepped to the shuttered window.

"What is it?" Iban asked.

Hassan could see three people standing on the street outside the apartment building… two men and a woman in a _burka_. All three were staring up at his window. "Curses," he said under his breath. This was not the time for a challenge. Yet he had a feeling these three would not go away. They would wait for him. With them watching him… his opportunity to rob the currency exchange would be lost. "Stay here… and don't touch anything." he snapped angrily at the boy. "I will return soon."

Ahmoud Hassan grabbed his cloak containing his sword and stormed down the rickety stairs and out onto the street. By the time he had gotten there… the three had retreated to a deserted alleyway. "I have no time for games," he mumbled to himself as he followed them.

Eventually they came to a small deserted square. They were waiting for him when he entered.

"You have very bad timing. Perhaps we could arrange to meet later. I have another engagement."

"The time is now and the place is here," the bearded man said. He waved an arm and the younger man moved off into the distance to keep watch.

"Very well… may I have the pleasure of your name?"

The bearded man chuckled. "Oh… I'm not the one challenging you… she is." He stepped back… amusement on his face.

"I am Ahmoud Hassan… I do not fight women."

The female lifted up the edge of the _burka_ and removed it. "No… you prefer to murder women and children… those who cannot fight back. You are a coward and an unworthy opponent."

Hassan drew his scimitar and grinned. "And you are a child. They," he gestured at her two companions, "cannot help you in this. You are on your own… and you are only a woman." He licked his lips seeing the very beautiful _katana_ she drew. His eyes widened… as it glittered in the afternoon sunlight. It would bring a great price. "When I take her head… do I have your word that you will not interfere and let me withdraw until I am recovered?" He called out to the others.

"If you can manage it," the bearded one said darkly.

Hassan raised his blade and assumed his stance… he feinted toward the woman a few times… trying to see her strengths… her weaknesses. She held the _katana_ over her head and turned and shifted… her eyes focused on his every move. She made no false movements in reply to his feints. He smiled and lunged forward suddenly swinging the scimitar around to end this fight quickly.

Hassan was surprised that she shifted midway through his stroke… bringing the _katana_ around to block his stroke. She immediately turned and sliced downward, her blade drawing first blood as it nicked his upper arm. He stepped back… already feeling it heal.

She was as still as stone… her eyes still focused on him… waiting for him. There was no fear in her face… there was nothing… just a blank look that observed him… and waited for him.

"You have some training… I give you that. But your stroke was weak… see… I am already healed." He indicated his arm, turning as he did so to twist his scimitar about and lunge toward her once more. This time her _katana_ found his stomach… a shallow… though painful cut. She pulled back while he halted… staring at the blood dripping from his wound. He ran his free hand over the wound… already feeling it heal… but the small cuts were an annoyance. No one had ever cut him like that in a challenge! Of course… his challenges had been to those he found unworthy of the gift of immortality… those either too young or too old to be effective warriors.

"Do tell me your name woman… I would sing your praises when you are dead."

She said nothing, only continued to focus on him.

"You have trained her well," Hassan said to the bearded immortal. "Is this her first challenge? Is this why you and that boy… another of your students… keep watch?" Hassan noticed the woman glance at the bearded man. "Ahh…" that at least is the truth."

"Defeat her and I will tell you her name."

Hassan bowed, his wound healed. "Then come to me pretty one… let my blade kiss your throat and send you to Paradise!" He lunged forward one more time… his strokes falling fast and furious as he forced her to block them and step backward… towards the wall of one of the surrounding buildings. He smiled… his skill was beginning to tell.

She faltered and he raised his blade for the final stroke… only to suddenly find that her _katana_ had sliced through his defenses one more time. Blood flowed freely. Ahmoud Hassan fell to his knees… darkness already beginning to cloud his vision. He had been defeated by a woman? He leaned forward on his hand and kness… tasting blood in his mouth.

"At least tell me your name," he said weakly.

"I am your death… I am the one who remains," she said evenly and sliced downward.

-----

By the time the quickening had died away, Duncan had gathered up the _burka_ and recovered the shaking Alisaunne. "You did fine… you did just fine." He led her to the entrance where Ian waited. She raced into the boy's embrace and stood there sobbing while he kised her hair and murmured soft words of support into her ear. "We have to go," Duncan said harshly, his eyes raking over the surrounding windows of the deserted square, he handed her the heavy covering cloth of the _burka_. "Put this on again. We have to go now!"

Immediately she stood straight once more and pulled the _burka_ over her head. Once hidden beneath it, she nodded. Duncan led the way… Alisaunne followed… and then Ian… as servant walked humbly behind her. They managed to leave the area without being stopped or questioned as residents wandered about wondering if another bomb had gone off. Duncan couldn't help smiling. It had all gone exactly as it should.

-----

Once they had returned to their compound, Alisaunne threw off the _burka _and paced back and forth in her loose white trousers and shirt. She felt excited and horrified at the same time. Duncan and Ian said little… and what they did say did not really make sense. She felt energized. She'd killed a man… but at the same time she'd bested him so easily. "Is it always like this?" she finally asked.

"Not always… but it was good challenge, you handled yourself well," Duncan finally said. "Did you see his life flash through you?"

"Yes… and you were right… He really did deserve death… He'd planned another bombing for this afternoon… at a crowded market. I could see his plans… He'd have sent a boy to set off the bomb and die… while he would have been blocks away… preparing to rob a business to line his own pockets." She stopped suddenly and seemed to stare blankly. "I killed him. I cut off his head and killed him!" Her voice rose as if she were struggling with the concept. "I killed him… and I enjoyed it."

Duncan stared at her. This was not the response he'd thought she would have. There was something dark and predatory about the way she said it. Had he made a mistake in forcing her to face this challenge?

Ian stepped up to her and held her still. "It's the high we all get." He pushed her dark hair away from her eyes and kissed her. "It will pass."

"I don't want it to pass… I want to feel like this always." Suddenly she kissed him harshly… almost biting his lips and thrusting her tongue roughly into his mouth. "Make love to me Ian…" she finally whispered into his ear as she pulled him with her toward the house. "I need you to love me now." She was all over him.

Duncan remained where he was in the deserted courtyard. "He knew the "high" that sometimes came after a quickening… and he also knew the "low." Alisaunne would still need him… There was still so much for her to learn. Duncan closed his eyes. Part of him urged that he pack his bags and go as he'd planned… get away from here… away from her… and part worried that he'd created a monster… one he was still responsible for. The young woman needed to know that killing was not the answer. She'd needed to know she could do it… but now he needed to teach her the other side of it all… the horror of it… and the guilt. He'd thought that would be her response… but it wasn't. One other thing worried Duncan. Next time… perhaps it would be him she would grab to assuage her lust. That thought both excited and worried him. Why did he so want her? He didn't love her… she was more like a niece… but he did want her… even more than he wanted to find Amanda.

Duncan backed toward the gate, then turned to leave the compound. He couldn't be here right now… he needed to be elsewhere… he needed to be with someone else… anyone else. Or he feared what he might do.

-----

As Duncan left the compound, he did not see the man in the Panama hat lurking in a nearby shadow. After Duncan had left, the man stared at the compound thoughtfully. It was only chance that he'd noticed the quickening… only chance that he seen this group leave the area. Were they all immortals? Surely that in itself was unusual. He needed to find out who they were… and get word to his superiors. Vacation was over… Tom Wheeler was back on the clock.


	31. Chapter 30

****

Chapter 30

Paris

Bright colors swirled about him and the smells and sounds of the open-air market filled Joe Dawson's senses as he walked slowly through the milling crowds. He had a hankering for some fresh fruit. Slowly he maneuvered among the stalls… looking for just the right piece of fruit. He wasn't certain what he wanted… but he wanted fruit. About once a week he came down here in good weather. Joe liked the carnival atmosphere… the music… the faces of the people milling about. It was a part of the old Paris that yet remained in this modern world.

As he was standing looking at some melons displayed before him… a young man standing next to him brushed against him, then casually reached across in front of him to select and pay for a melon. The young man flashed him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry Joe," he said as he retrieved his selection and then sauntered away.

Joe stared after him. He seemed familiar… but who? As he was staring thoughtfully after the young man trying to remember him from somewhere, Joe's hand brushed against his coat pocket. He felt something in there. Ramming his hand into it and he felt carefully around to find a small cardboard box. Joe withdrew his hand and looked around thoughtfully. As if it was part of his routine, he crossed to the outdoor cafe on the far side of the market. After taking a seat, he ordered a cup of coffee and stared blankly at a menu. Slowly and carefully he felt once more for the box in his pocket. Had the boy put it there? It wasn't wrapped, so he maneuvered the top off and felt inside. There was a slip of paper.

Carefully… he withdrew his hand… the small scrap of paper hidden within his fist. Joe wiped his hand across the menu and opened the paper up. There was an address and a time written on it. Joe considered it. Could it be Mac? Had he returned to Paris? Methos? Or maybe Amanda? Any of them might have taken this route to get him to meet them. On the other hand… What if it was a trap of some sort?

The waitress brought his coffee and took his meal order… he handed her the menu… re-pocketing the paper in his pocket… carefully pulling the flap over his pocket and patting it. As he sipped his coffee… he considered how to get to the address. He knew he was likely being watched… but maybe not all the time.

Finally he called Amy from his cellphone. "Hi darlin'… I doubt I'll make our dinner date tonight. Gimme a rain check?"

"What's wrong?"

Joe grimaced. "I'm havin' a little squeak in my right leg… I think I'm goin' to the center later to have them take a look at it… Might take a while. Can we do dinner tomorrow?" It was the only thing he could come up with at short notice. If he changed his routine… he needed to make it seem innocuous.

"Sure… call me later." Amy rang off. She'd be on pins and needles he knew. They'd set some conversations for phone calls which they suspected were likely monitored, that would mean something was up. He hoped she'd caught that. This hadn't been one of them… but he had to have a reason for going where he was going.

Joe ate his meal, paid, and then headed for the medical center where he could get service on his prosthesis. Whoever had sent him the note… had likely realized it might be the safest place to meet with him.

-----

At the center he checked in at the desk and said he needed an adjustment… he had an appointment. Finally he was ushered into an empty workroom. He had a seat and waited. A few minutes later… a woman in a white coat… dark hair piled on top of her head entered and Joe broke into a grin.

"Ellie," he whispered as she shut the door.

"Hello Joseph. Sorry about the subterfuge… but I saw you were being watched and followed. I didn't want to take the chance." She stepped closer and smiled, touching one hand to the side of his face… stroking his almost white beard. "You look great, Joe."

"Naw… I look old. You on the other hand look great… positively glowing."

She laughed, shaking her head. Then she sobered. "Have you seen Methos?"

Joe nodded. "A few days ago… I warned him about Watchers. Somethin' bad seems to be goin' down."

Ellie wandered toward the window. "And you don't know what?"

"I'm on the outside lookin' in these days. They retired my ass." Joe smirked.

Ellie gazed at him sadly. "Because of us?"

Joe shook his head. "No… because of me. I broke the rules once too often. But it was my choice."

"I'm so sorry."

Joe thought she really did look sorry. "So what's the deal?"

"Methos… something has happened… I just know it… I can't explain… I thought that maybe you could help me locate him. I can feel him… he's alive… but something is wrong. I can't get a clear picture."

"What are you talkin' about? You can feel him?" Joe crossed to the window to stare down at her.

"We share thoughts…" she finally said. "He took a quickening somewhere… but something happened afterwards… Now… although I can feel him… I can't contact him. I don't know… maybe we're too far apart… although I didn't think that would make a difference." Ellie began to run a hand through her hair… then realizing it was up… she pulled the hand away and stared at Joe with a worrisome look on her face. "I had thought you could help. I'm sorry to have bothered you." Dejection was clearly apparent in her demeanor. She turned away.

"Hey…" Joe began… and then waited for her to meet his grin. "I didn't say I couldn't find out things. I still have a few contacts inside. Give me a day or two… Is there some way for me to reach you if I learn anything?"

"I hadn't planned on staying in Paris," she said… and then smiled. "But I could stay a day or two… just to give you some time. Meanwhile I can keep trying to get a fix on him."

"So how do I reach you?"

"Do you ever go to Darius' old church?"

"Occasionally…"

"If you go there, I'll see you. I'll send Derrick out to get the message."

"That was Derrick at the market? Damn that kid's grown!"

"Yes… he's very tall and still growing. But then," Ellie laughed. "Most people seem tall to me."

"Does he know yet… I mean about his being immortal?"

Ellie looked away. "I'm not certain. We havn't told him… but I think he may suspect. It worries me. It's dangerous for them to know, Joseph. Sometimes… if they know… they don't come back, even after a violent death. But he knows he has some of Darius' memories… he and Methos have discussed that. And he often asks me things about Darius… as if he's trying to understand things that don't clearly make sense to him."

"Then mum's the word." Joe grinned.

Ellie nodded. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything… for being a friend… for helping."

"What are friends for."

Ellie reached up to give him a light kiss then she backed away. "If I learn anything… I'll let you know."

"Same here and Ellie… I still owe you a pizza." Joe smiled.

Ellie laughed and nodded. "And a Cub's game."

"And a tour of Chicago." He winked. "This time darlin'… we're gonna have that date."

Ellie nodded sadly. "Yes… that would be nice." She left then. Joe waited a few minutes longer before he left as well. He'd have to have a long talk with Amy… and he might need to get Burt more involved. But Joe Dawson knew one thing… Ellie needed him… and he was going to figure out a way to help. Damn… it felt good to be needed again!


	32. Entr'acte One

Entr'acte One

__

Paris, May 1985

Shrouded by the night

And by the secret stair I quickly fled

The veil concealed my eyes

While all within [me] lay quiet as the dead

from **_Dark Night of the Soul_** by St. John of the Cross

words adapted by Loreena McKennitt

Eleanor hurt. She hurt more than she could recall hurting in a very long time. She tied to sit up in the bed… and immediately regretted it. Collapsing back on the bed she tried to clearly think where she was and what had happened to her. She saw the rough beam ceiling and then noticed the thin lace curtain blowing in the breeze that covered her small window. She was in her room… in her bed… and she hurt. She felt like she had been torn apart. So… she was home… but what had happened?

Casting her memory back… she tried to recall the last thing she could remember. Methos! She'd been with Methos. There had been an urgency in their desire for one another that had nearly pushed the bounds of decency. It had been centuries since either of them had felt that way… that need to simply possess one another… have one another… Not since before Kae Dhun. Since then… their relationship had evolved. Slower … more tentative… as if they needed to gradually rediscover one another. Loving… but not needing. Eighty years prior… they had considered doing something more permanent… but had both withdrawn… and though they had been together a few times this century… most notably thirty some years ago… a permanent relationship had not been in the cards.

But this time… both she and Methos had seemed ready. They'd discussed it quietly at dinner, speaking in languages no longer known to the modern world… And then that other couple had wandered by… Methos worked with the man… Salzer she thought his name was. Methos knew both of them socially… and had introduced her as a cousin. Eleanor had nearly broken into laughter and had kicked him under the table when he'd called her Evie. Such a prankster… Adam and Evie…

Later… after they'd left… he'd mumbled something about Evelyn Trenton being a name on his biography. "It'll help… Dan will vouch for me that I have family." He'd grinned at her.

Then what had happened? They'd finished dinner… then gone to Notre Dame to visit with Darius for a while… and then… Eleanor closed her eyes. It was at that point that everything seemed to devolve into a need of Methos… and his need for her. Urgent… all-encompassing… an imperative that had overwhelmed them both… and then… Eleanor rubbed a hand over her forehead… feeling that it was slick with perspiration. It seemed so hot in here today…

She felt an immortal presence approaching. Straining, she could hear the soft sound of the hidden door from the sewers open and shut… and then slow measured footsteps on the stone stairs. It had to be Darius… perhaps he would have the answers as to why she was here and what had happened. Once more she attempted to sit up and once more… vertigo seized her and the pain pierced her… she lay back… her eyes closed.

The outer door opened and she could hear him settle something onto the counter before coming to her open door.

"Hey," she managed and opened her eyes.

"You're awake. How do you feel?"

"Very confused." Eleanor ran a hand through her hair… feeling it damp, tangled and matted about her head.

"I don't doubt it." Darius's voice was clipped… non-committal.

Eleanor tried to rise up on her elbows and then fell back once more. "What happened?" When Darius said nothing… Eleanor stared at him. He crossed her room to stare out of her window… his hands hidden within the sleeves of his robes. "Darius?"

Finally he turned to gaze at her sadly. "You said you'd been raped when you showed up here. You weren't entirely making sense."

Eleanor froze… for a moment her memories of her first death encompassed her so fully that nothing else seemed real. Only Edward… Methos… who had found her and Darius knew how she'd died that first time. It was still the one nightmare of her life that she'd never put behind her. She'd sworn early on in her immortal life… it would never happen again… she'd die first. Once she'd even knifed Edward when he'd tried to force her against her will. "My choice!" she'd told him. He'd never tried to force her again… understanding that her memories of her rape were still too painful… that she would lash out to kill anyone who tried. After she'd taken Kae Dhun's quickening… she'd been even more deadly towards any man who even looked at her the wrong way. Kae had fed off of her fear and had sometimes gained control of her when she was faced with situations over which she had no control.

Closing her eyes… Eleanor tried once more to recall what had happened. But nothing came… just her memories of being with Methos. "Did I say who did it?" she finally asked.

Again Darius turned to stare out the window. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," she snapped.

The priest continued to stare out the window. "Methos," he finally said. "You told me it was Methos."

Eleanor closed her eyes… trying to bring forth a memory… but nothing beyond that sense of attacking one another with passion and need would come. "He wouldn't… he knows… I don't believe it…" she finally mumbled in a broken voice… sobs behind her words. She hurt… she hurt so badly.

Darius shrugged. "I only know what you told me." He turned to regard her sadly. "You said nothing else."

Eleanor curled into a ball, letting her tears freely flow… and her sobs wrack her bruised and beaten body. This made no sense… but if she had told Darius this… "Are you certain?" she finally got out, hoping against hope that somehow… he had misunderstood something she'd said.

Darius shrugged. "Why would I lie?" he turned back to the window to stare out onto the street, leaving her to sob on her narrow bed alone. He made no attempt to comfort her… she doubted she'd have let him anyway.

By dark… Eleanor felt much better… at least physically. She pulled her backpack and a couple of changes of clothes from the deep wooden chest, thrusting them into the pack. She stared around the room. "I'd thought to stay a while this time… but I can't… not now. I need to leave and think this out… get it all straight in my head before I see him again." She shouldered her pack and smiled thinly at her friend. "Don't tell him where I went… if he happens to come by to ask… don't tell him."

"I won't tell him anything." Darius continued to stare out the window… as if embarrassed by what had happened.

"I _will_ miss you Darius," she'd said with a small smile.

He stared out the window. Finally he answered, "I'll miss you more." But there was no teasing in his words… only a great sadness she could not fathom.

Eleanor nodded and left quietly. She'd backpacked across Europe. It was almost eight years before she even dared to return to Paris. And in all that time… she did not contact any of her friends… but simply moved through her life… as if it were something to be endured rather than celebrated. Where once she'd finally made a decision to tell Methos how she felt about him… now she closed her heart to any memory of him or their times together. She would endure the consequences of her choice… she would endure life without him… but she doubted she'd ever forgive him.

-----

After Eleanor left, Darius cleaned and straightened her room and then returned to his church… where he prayed for his friends… for what had happened… for what he'd done… and not done… and for himself… that one day… they'd understand… that they would forgive him. He'd needed to test his theory… it had worked… but there had been unforeseen circumstances… ones he'd not considered. Now… he had to keep them apart for a while… not forever… but just long enough to finish the task at hand and to see what fruit would come from the seeds he had planted.

Within him… he felt only an empty void… where once he'd felt the power of the Ancients. Within him was only a shadow of what they'd been… a reflection of their power. Darius felt more alone than he had in over fourteen hundred years.


	33. Part Two: The Dark Night of the Soul, Ch...

Part Two: _The Dark Night of the Soul_

Look out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul.

from **_Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)_** by Don MacLean

Chapter 31

Tunis, March 2011, the next day

Morning had given way to the heat of midday before Alisaunne woke, stretching luxuriously in her bed. She was alone. It didn't matter, she felt truly satisfied for the first time in her life… as if she had pushed Ian… until at last he'd responded fully and completely… determined to satisfy her. "_If this is what it's like to be an immortal and feel the power of the quickening… then I am truly blessed_," she thought with a laugh. She felt his presence approaching… and smiled… waiting for him. She grabbed a pillow and fluffed it as she eyed the door.

Ian entered with a tray… a wide grin across his face. "Awake at last, sleepyhead?"

"Mmmmm…" Alisaunne said with a sigh. "Why did you let me sleep so late?"

Ian set the tray on their bed and climbed up beside her. On the tray were some fresh dates… some strong black coffee, and some cinnamon bread. Sitting up, Alisauune poured some of the strong drink and shuddered at its bitter taste.

"I felt you needed to sleep since you got so little the last two nights," Ian grinned at her teasingly.

"Oh… and you slept?"

Ian laughed… "A bit more than you." He shrugged.

Alisaunne nibbled on some dates… then she closed her eyes. "Where's Duncan… I don't really sense him."

"He didn't come back last night." Ian said soberly.

"What do you mean he didn't come back?" She sat up suddenly… attempting to recall just when he'd left. "He was here… we all three came back after the challenge… then…" She stopped.

"He left after we came upstairs," Ian offered simply.

"Left? Why?"

The boy shook his head and ran one hand through his black-dyed locks. "I guess he wanted to give us some privacy… We were really obvious about what we were planning on doing."

"Honestly!" Alisaunne sat back on their bed… her back against the headboard. "One would think he was some old grandmother. There are times he seems to be positively scandalized by us."

Ian's face reddened beneath his darkened skin. "Well… sometimes you are a bit more forward than most ladies of my youth… or his."

"I thought you liked me being a little forward," she teased.

"Aye lass, I do… but I think Duncan may have thought it might be better to take a walk for while."

"But he should have been back by now. I've never known him to stay away all night."

"Aye… but you've entered the game now Alisaunne. He'll be moving on soon. He's taught you all he can." Ian's clear blue eyes met hers and he smiled wanly. "We'll have to be deciding where we'll be heading soon… That is if you still want me with you?" There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Alisaunne smiled and leaned forward to kiss the end of his nose. "What do you think?" she said with a laugh. All thoughts of Duncan or breakfast faded from her mind as she nuzzled Ian's ear, biting his earlobe playfully.

Later… she'd climbed to the roof to work out. Swiftly and confidently she went through the warm-ups… pushing herself to be faster… more economical in her movements as Duncan had taught her she must be.

"You must dedicate a part of each day to this Alisaunne for the rest of your life… if you don't… you won't have a long life. The game is reaching an endpoint. The Gathering is here. Only the best will survive."

"You mean only the one?"

Duncan had nodded. "That's what I was taught."

"But you think now it might be different… that more than one might survive?" Her thoughts had been on Ian at the time… of what living without him might be like.

"I don't know. None of us do. Part of me hopes that it won't come to that… ever… but we have to prepare for it… as if it must."

Movement after movement… Alisaunne used her hands and her feet as weapons in her stylized routine.

"Your body must learn it so well… that it reacts without your thinking about what you need to do." Duncan had said.

So she moved… her eyes unfocused… her mind at rest… movement after movement. Finally satisfied, a fine film of sweat covering her body, cooling her skin in the noon breeze, she crossed to the edge of the building to drink some water.

It was from there that she first noticed the man in the Panama hat… hiding in the shadows of the building opposite their compound. After watching him for a few minutes, she motioned to Ian who had just come out on the roof. "Ian," Alisaunne called. When he came to stand beside her, she pointed. "Do you see him?"

"Aye, we likely picked up a Watcher yesterday. We'll need to lose him before we leave here."

"A Watcher?" She turned to him… confused.

"Mortals who keep tabs on many of us. Duncan told me about them… they don't interfere… but they give me the heebie-jeebies. That's why we had to get you out of Paris so fast… Did he not mention them to you?" Ian shrugged as if it were old news.

"Evidently not." Alisaunne watched the man while she continued to drink her water. He could not see her from where he was… but she could see him. The man just stood there… doing nothing… just reading a newspaper and occasionally glancing around. Alisaunne finished her water. "Should we do anything about him?"

"Only after Duncan gets back. As I said… Duncan told me they've watched our kind for centuries… but I gather he was hoping none would find us here. Perhaps that one was on Hassan… although I could have sworn no one could see the challenge."

Alisaunne turned with a laugh. "_If_ Duncan comes back."

"He'll be back, lass. He left everything here. He wouldn't leave here without that old computer of his… that laptop… and a few other things."

"What if something happened to him?" Alisaunne suddenly asked… worried.

Ian's reply tried to make light of her fears. "He's a great warrior Alisaunne. He's defeated many an immortal. He'll not be an easy man to kill."

Alisaunne sighed. "I suppose… but I think I'll worry until he gets back." She kissed Ian's cheek lightly, then headed into the house for a shower.

Ian continued to gaze down at their Watcher. He was far more worried than he'd let on. Duncan would never have left here had he seen the man… That he had left… indicated to Ian that the Highlander had not noticed him. Or, and this was far more worrisome to the young Welshman, the Watcher or his friends had way-layed MacLeod somehow… and were now lying in wait for the two of them. Ian narrowed his glance and then turned abruptly to work out. Not if he could help it! The big problem, as far as he could figure, was to keep Alisaunne here and not let her go running off to find MacLeod. Ian had to trust that Duncan would be back. If it were at all possible… Duncan would be back.

-----

****

Paris

Henry Rawlins looked over Tom Wheeler's report with interest. "Hassan is no loss… we would only have used him as bait or in the preliminary test runs. But these three Wheeler is keeping an eye on interest me. Have we any ideas about who they are?"

"Not at present Mr. Rawlins." Avril Mischkov explained.

Rawlins sat back in his leather office chair and rocked back and forth slightly. A smirk crossed his face and he winked. "Who's missing that we still need to locate."

"MacLeod?"

Rawlins nodded with a knowing smile. "Get word to Wheeler to stay out of sight. He may have just earned bonus money if one of these is MacLeod."

"And the other two."

Rawlins closed the file and passed it to Mischkov. "Likely only bait and unimportant; possibly MacLeod's students. Once we get MacLeod, if it is him, then the boy and the young woman are negligible. Pass the word." With that… Rawlins returned to observing his monitor. He clicked the remote and watched them one by one… smiling with an eager sense of accomplishmnet. Soon… he'd have them all… or at least the all the ones he needed… and then the next phase of his grand scheme would begin.


	34. Chapter 32

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Chapter 32

Paris, that evening

Early evening in a Paris spring had always been one of his favorite times. Joe Dawson sat comfortably in the lawn chair, gazing about the small garden at the rear of Amy's house… watching the twins, three-year old Dawson and Abigail run about the small yard chasing butterflies… heedless of danger… caught in the moment as only small children seem capable. Watching them, Joe felt complete. Something of him… something of who he was… would remain in the world after he was long dead. They were his immortality. Did he have the right to endanger them?

Amy's hand touched his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze as she walked up behind him to watch the twins. His daughter leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Dinner's almost ready."

Joe reached up to pat her hand… and held it a moment.

"Suppose you tell me what's on your mind?" Amy said as she settled in the lawn chair next to his. "I know you well enough to know something is going on." Amy gazed at him sternly.

Joe chuckled. "Yeah… by now I guess you do." He glanced around the yard and leaned close to her. "How safe are we here?"

Amy sobered. "Does this have something to do with that phone call yesterday?" When Joe nodded, Amy closed her eyes a moment obviously thinking.

"How much does Burt know?" Joe prodded.

Amy shrugged. "After the twins were born… I had to tell him something so that he'd know… if something happened to me… to get the twins out of here safely. I finally told him about the existence of immortals about six months ago. I had to. But he knows he can't tell anyone… talk to anyone. He doesn't know you know… he just thinks it's this strange research job I have."

"Has he asked you to leave?"

Amy nodded as Abigail came running up, to have her shoe re-tied. Once her daughter's shoes were re-tied and Abigail had re-joined her brother, Amy continued. "I've explained that like security… this is not a job I can just leave. I've tried to make him see this job is just a passion of mine, and that there is no real danger to any of us… but I think he suspects. Joe… I need to tell him everything… but I also need to be certain the children are safe. I'm afraid to tell him what we've been doing… I fear he'll say or do something to endanger us all."

Joe sighed as he stared at the children. "But we may need him. Can we ship the twins to your mom's for a while?"

Amy gave him a startled look. "You think it may be necessary?"

Joe nodded. They'd discussed this possibility before the twins had been born. Amy's mother, Laura Ayers-Brennan who had retired from the Watchers before Amy had been born, had remarried several years ago, and was happily settled in Liverpool. Her new husband had died suddenly a few months ago, and since then, she'd been begging Amy to bring the twins for a long visit. Laura had been out of the organization so long… that she'd have no idea how things had changed. Especially now!

Amy watched her children at play… and felt torn. She wanted to remain and try to learn what it was that Henry Rawlins and his people were doing both to the immortals… and to the Watcher Organization… she wanted to help her father help his immortal friends, but she also wanted her family safe. "I'll call and make the arrangements tomorrow," she finally said. "Now what's happening?"

"Methos came to see me last week," Joe murmured under his breath.

Amy stared at him. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I hadn't had the chance… But he's gone missing. I promised a friend I'd see what I could find out. Has there been any activity on him?"

Amy sat back. "Nothing I'd noticed… but then… I'm still not in the inner circle." Amy had slowly and carefully been working her way into Rawlins' group… trying to learn more about what he was doing. "I can do some checking."

"You be careful!" Joe warned her.

Amy smiled, "I will Joe… I will. Believe me… I do not have a death wish. But despite our being so careful… I haven't really noticed any backlash toward Watchers who ask questions. They just don't get answers… nor are they given new assignments. Many of the older ones have retired as their immortals have vanished in the past few years… Most of those I see are a new breed… very focused… very secretive."

"Get the twins to your Mom's, see if there's been activity on Methos' file… and keep it under your hat," Joe finally said… "Depending on what you learn… I'll fill you in… both you and Burt."

"Why Burt?"

"Because he has other contacts… and I think he may need to know what's going on. You said you told him some of it… did you tell him about Amanda and Nick?"

"He guessed, as I thought he would."

"Then he may be pursuing his own means of investigation without telling you. I need to know what he knows… and I may need him to do some legwork. I'm not as spry as I once was." Joe grinned, winking one eye at his daughter. "Not to worry… we just all need to be on the same page."

"Joe," the tone of Amy's voice cut the old Watcher to the core, "Who's looking for Methos?"

Joe considered his words carefully, finally he looked at her and said simply, "A friend… a very dear friend."

Amy pursed her brows and stared at him thoughtfully. "I would say MacLeod… but I think if it were him… you'd have told me. You saw someone yesterday… didn't you?"

Joe nodded barely perceptively. Nervously he ran one hand through his beard and looked away. He felt Amy's hand reach for his and give it a squeeze.

"I won't push… if you think you cannot say… but I'd never betray your trust. You do know that."

Joe squeezed her hand back. "It's just that… it's someone I don't think is in Watcher records… and I promised to say nothing." He finally met her smile.

"Now why do I think it's a woman?"

Joe chuckled, but said nothing further. He'd begun to understand over the last eight years… just how important it was that Ellie be safe. He'd die first… Just as Methos had once told him that he couldn't tell Joe Eleanor's story… it was something that only she could… Joe felt the same way. If Ellie revealed her presence to Amy… then no problem… but unless she did so… Joe felt that he needed to remain mum about her.

"_Mynishka_ indeed," he thought… thinking of the Watcher legend of the mysterious green-eyed immortal whose appearance kept changing… an immortal no Watcher had ever been able to describe. What wouldn't Rawlins and his men do if they ever learned that the _mynishka_ was real… that she still existed? No… Joe would say nothing.

Joe Dawson watched his grandchildren play and wondered if tonight might be the last time he'd ever get to spend time with them.


	35. Chapter 33

_I've noticed in studying my Enhanced Statistics breakdown of the number of readers per chapter... that chapter 27 (aka Chapter 26) has about half the number of readers as most of the others. As I put two chapters up that day... I hope all of you have read it. _

_I've finished the actual writing process of the story... and while some editing on future chapters still needs to be done... I hope to begin loading two chapters a day... one in the morning... the other in the evening. Since the site's chapter numbering does not quite match mine (as I have a Prologue and an Entr'acte between sections of the story... be certain to catch them all. And now... on with my tale... I hope all of you are intriqued and eagerly awaiting:_

_------------------------------_

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**Chapter 33**

**Paris, the next morning**

When Derrick had awakened earlier, it had still been dark. Hungry… his stomach complaining about the lack of food… he'd risen to find Ellie, still sitting in the dark in the middle of the floor of the other room… her eyes closed. He'd sighed, feeling that once again she hadn't been out. But she had. He'd had to remind her again yesterday that they both needed food… especially if they were staying here a few days. She'd looked at him dully and then nodded. Once more, she'd insisted he take the bed… while she concentrated on finding Methos by means of whatever connection the two of them shared. At least she'd freshened the linens some after that first night, shaking them out in the air of the courtyard.

He'd found day-old croissants in a bag on the counter, also some over-ripe pears, and, in the small refrigerator, some butter. He'd chuckled. Derrick had a feeling that Ellie had reverted to her old ways. No cooking for her… not on this trip! While that hand-to-mouth existence had worked when he'd been ten… he somehow doubted it would work for him now.

He filled a glass of water from the tap, then sat on the counter… gorging on the croissants and pears. Ellie never moved. Once he'd polished everything off… he'd gone down the stone stairs to wander again in the small garden.

The sound of the water bubbling from the small spring filled the air. The grove of stunted trees… was like a window on an untamed piece of nature. Derrick, however, missed the fields of the farm… and he missed the horses. The boy stared at the three-story stone walls with its fake windows peering out into the world and wondered why anyone would build such a place.

He shook his head. Sometimes Derrick really didn't understand these immortals… nor why it was he'd been blessed or cursed with some of the memories of one of them. One thing he was aware of, though, ever since that weird sharing of himself with Methos and Eleanor back in Scotland… he'd had no more visions… and no more odd thoughts in his head. His mind was at rest… as if whatever had been awakened in the aftermath of Eleanor's burning… had chosen to sleep once more.

"I'm not him," Derrick had wanted to assure her both before they'd left Scotland… and since. And he wasn't. He was himself… he needed to make decisions about his life… and not let some old memories of some previous life dictate his path. "_It is the future that's important…_" he'd told the image of the Lady long ago, and while the visions he got in dreams were mesmerizing… they didn't apply to his life now… nor to any future he might have. He rammed his hands into his jeans pockets and slowly walked about… deep in thought.

-----

Upstairs, Eleanor finally opened her eyes. She stood unsteadily and stretched. She'd had no luck. She could sense Methos… far away… but she could get no direction of where. His mind was open to her… but he seemed unaware of where he was. Indeed… he did not seem to be thinking at all… he was just there. But Eleanor could not discover where… and her head was starting to pound again. She was trying too hard.

Noting the open door to the other room, she glanced about searching for Derrick. She could sense him close by… his pre-immortal status unchanged. "_Likely downstairs_," she thought. Picking up the empty bag, which had held the croissants, she grinned. "Growing boys have to eat!" Wadding the bag up, she tossed it in a trashcan and descended the stairs.

She could see him wandering through the small grove… lost in thought. It had been dangerous to bring him here. Eleanor worried that his strange memories might overwhelm him in this place. She and Methos had slowly watched him… had not pushed… as if worried that they'd lose him if he recalled too much too soon.

"I don't think he was supposed to have recalled anything until he was grown," Methos had said recently. "Likely meeting us brought those memories to the forefront of his mind all those years ago."

"When he becomes immortal… will he remember them or forget them?" Eleanor had asked. "Until you met me… you didn't remember your childhood… and until we bonded… I didn't remember mine."

Methos had murmured softly, as he'd nuzzled her, his mind already on something else "I don't know, my love. I truly don't know."

Thus they'd tried to learn what Derrick knew… slowly… making notes of the things he said… hoping that eventually the memories would begin to make sense. Methos had encouraged him to work with the computer on his own… feeling Derrick might, by working with the pages, begin to make sense of the memories, or even solve the puzzle. But, as if he feared to say too much, Derrick had held his tongue about much that he evidently recalled, they'd both felt. But neither had been willing to force him… not at the risk of his learning for certain about his latent immortality… nor what would be necessary to bring it to fruition.

"If we're not careful… we could lose him," Methos had said.

Eleanor agreed. Losing Derrick was not something she wished to face. Not here… and not now! But, by bringing him to Paris… Eleanor may have precipitated the very event she feared… Derrick might figure it out… and she wasn't certain if she was ready for him to.

Plastering a smile across her face she joined him in the grove. "It'll be daylight soon. Dawn is already breaking."

"How can you tell? It's so dark in here."

Eleanor shrugged, "I just can. Maybe because I lived here for so long. It's holy ground here. Although I have never liked spending too much time on holy ground… I fear it… as a place where I have no power… where I cannot defend myself… I have often felt safe here."

"But not always?"

Eleanor sat on the rocks by the spring and leaned forward, to let the water flow over her hand. "No… not always. There was a time I was filled with anger and hate. There was a time I was dangerous to be around. I was not welcome here."

"You act like the Earth itself rejected your presence here." Derrick laughed at the thought.

Eleanor looked up and nodded with a smile. "Yes… perhaps it did."

Derrick settled on the rocks next to her, holding his hands before him and looking at them thoughtfully. "Are we safe here?" He glanced over at her as if worried about what might happen.

Eleanor offered a small smile and a shrug, "From other immortals… yes. They cannot enter here. Even if they should sense us from the street… even if they managed to enter here… which is unlikely… we are safe here. They can do nothing."

"But I can."

Eleanor stared at Derrick. "Why do you say that?"

"I'm mortal. Whatever prevents you from doing anything here… it holds no sway over me."

Eleanor grabbed his arm. "You… will do nothing… do you hear me? You will not interfere. You will not attempt to fight one of us. What we are and what we must do is not for you!" Eleanor bit her tongue as her thoughts continued with the words she would not say aloud, "_Not yet… not yet._" Placing her small hands on his face to ease the hurt in his expression, she softened her voice. "I can take care of myself Derrick… and I will take care of you. Promise me… you will not interfere if something happens. You have to trust me… trust that I do know what needs to be done."

Derrick nodded. Then he grinned. "But I _am_ still hungry. Is there any chance we could get a meal… a real meal somewhere?"

Eleanor laughed and the grove seemed to be filled with the sound of tinkling bells. "I think we could manage a meal somewhere." She brushed her hand through his sandy hair with a grin. "Probably do us both some good! Besides, I want to see if Joseph has learned anything as yet. Come on!"

Hand in hand… Eleanor led him from the grove… carefully re-locking the iron gate behind them as they left. She returned the key to the church… making certain he could find it if necessary… and then they went in search of a meal… and some information.

-----

Byron Delano had lost the trail of the immortal he'd been following since that gas station in southern England. They'd likely come to Paris… it made the most sense… but had they remained here? Or had they taken a left turn and headed east… or simply passed through. Delano had no idea… nor did he think he'd ever know for certain.

He was still not quite certain what it was about the immortal he'd sensed that had so intrigued him. He'd caught a glimpse of a young man driving… and someone else in the car… possibly female… possibly a child… but that was all… that and a pull to follow… to find… to know.

Upon his arrival two days ago in Paris… he'd driven up and down the main thoroughfares… seeking the elusive immortal. He'd found nothing. He'd sensed a few others in passing… but not the other one. Yesterday he'd begun a search of hotels… still nothing. Today… he decided to climb the Eiffel Tower and stare out at Paris… as if somehow the vista would grant him a vision of where the immortal was or which direction Delano should take in searching. He wandered about the platform… gazing into the hazy distance… but nothing came to him. Likely he was wasting his time. It wasn't the first time.

Born in County Clare, Ireland… in 1886, he'd died during the "troubles" of 1916 just two weeks shy of his thirtieth birthday… or at least the date the orphanage had selected as his birthday when he was a boy. He'd been beaten to death in a riot… his head cracked open by a strongly swung billy club in the hands of a grimacing young policeman. Delano had awakened in the morgue… bodies strewn about… and there had been Lawrence Prescott… the policeman who'd killed him.

"Sorry about that… didn't realize it was you… nor what you were… till it was done." Prescott had shrugged sheepishly.

"What am I?" Delano had not always had a clear grasp of the essentials and had not realized at the time… that he'd died. For some reason he'd thought that maybe the policeman had recognized him as someone else.

"Oh… an immortal like me." Prescott had shrugged once more. "Come along, lad… There's much I have to tell you and not much time to be gettin' you outta here."

Delano had been dully suspicious of the young Englishman, who corrected him. "Not English… immortal… like you. We're brothers as there are so few of us about. I was just raised in England." Later Delano came to learn that the young policeman who looked every bit of twenty-one… was likely closer to one hundred and twenty-one.

Despite their beginnings, they'd become fast friends. Prescott had taught Delano about swords and the game… and Delano had taught Prescott about living in the moment. "If we might die today or tonight… then lift a glass and drink yer fill," Delano had advocated. Prescott, a nice enough chap but rather solemn and given to his dedication to serious jobs like law enforcement… had eventually learned to relax. But he'd been adamant that Delano not waste his life any longer in the petty squabbles of a people who were not his.

"You're an immortal Byron… Your people are others like me. You must focus on the game… on surviving… on being the best you can be."

"Then why do you do it?" Delano had asked his young teacher.

Prescott had gazed into the distance and smiled, "Oh… my goal is to keep safe as many as I can… Unfortunately… I messed up with you. I should never have been there that day… I should never have clubbed you. But I got carried away in the moment."

"Then your sorry I'm immortal?"

Prescott shook his head, "I'm just sorry it was me who killed you."

They'd parted ways a number of decades ago… and Delano had not heard anything regarding his teacher and friend in years. It was really the reason he'd been tooling about England, hoping to run into Prescott… and then that Land Rover had pulled out of that gas station… and Delano had followed.

Now… here he was in France… a country he didn't much care for… with few funds and fewer friends… and no prospects for anything in sight. Delano sighed as he headed down in the tower lift. He had the strangest feeling… he should have stayed on the other side of the channel.


	36. Chapter 34

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Chapter 34

Tunis

Alisaunne had begun to worry. Duncan had been missing for a second night. She'd paced the halls and the rooftop of their compound most of the night… watching this so-called Watcher… or the glow of his cigarette in the darkness. She felt they needed to get out of here… but she wanted to give Duncan enough time to finish whatever the hell he thought he was doing! One thing she'd noticed since taking the power and essence of Ahmoud Hassan… was that she was developing a bit of a temper.

Ian had shrugged. "It'll pass. We sometimes take on personality traits of those we kill for a period of time… especially if they are older and more powerful."

Alisaunne wasn't certain she wanted it to pass.

Shortly before dawn, she sensed Duncan's return. Eagerly she met him in the courtyard. When she came running out of the house toward him… Duncan paused and backed up a step. In the darkness… she could not see his face.

Throwing her arms about his neck she cried out, "I was so worried."

Duncan stood still for a moment and then slowly raised his arms to embrace her. "I'm fine." He let his hands rest lightly on her back and took a long slow breath… drinking in the scent of her. Then he dropped his hands and stood back, glancing over at the form of Ian appearing in the darkness.

"What is it?"

"We have a Watcher we think." Ian offered softly. "We can see him from the roof."

"Show me!" Duncan followed the two younger immortals to the roof and stared thoughtfully at the cigarette glow in the shadows. Stroking his beard… running his fingers through the tangled dark hair that obscured his face… Duncan considered options. Finally he turned to Ian. "We need to talk to him. Give me five minutes then go out the front entrance and get his attention." The Highlander started down the stairs, only to be grabbed by Alisaunne.

"What do I do?" she asked.

Duncan snapped… and instantly regretted the tone, "Stay out of sight." He brushed her hand away went three steps and then stopped. "Put the _burka_ on… Hopefully he hasn't seen your face." Then he headed to the back of the house… and slipped over the wall.

"He's just worried, lass," Ian offered softly as he went down the stairs. "You'll see… Once he talks to this fellow… everything will be fine."

-----

Five minutes later, Ian sauntered out of the gate just as the dark of night was giving way to the gray light of dawn before the sun had risen. He knew he looked every inch the part of young servant to the man of the house. Poorly dressed in simple clothes… he could fade into the crowds easily indistinguishable from a thousand other house servants filling the streets of Tunis.

Shortly after passing the shadow where he knew the man waited… Ian stopped and bent over holding his stomach and mumbling in a loud voice. From the corner of his eye… he noted the man had paused… exposed suddenly in the street and no longer certain that he was safe from immortal eyes.

Just then… Duncan slipped up behind him… and knocked him out. The man crumpled back into Duncan's arms. "Grab his feet," the immortal hissed at Ian. Together… they carried the man into the compound.

Alisaunne met them at the gate, letting them in and then re-locking it after they'd entered. She was carefully veiled.

Duncan directed they carry the man into the main room. They tossed him onto a stuffed armchair. Duncan rifled through his pockets and then the man's wrists. No tattoo! After coming up with a wallet, Duncan grabbed a vase of cut flowers, pulled them out, and then tossed the water into the man's face.

He sputtered.

Duncan handed a lit lamp to Ian who shone it the light into the man's face.

With a carefully cultivated accent, Duncan asked, "Why were you watching us?"

The man coughed. "I wasn't… I was just smoking a cigarette and contemplating the night."

"For over twenty-four hours?"

The man licked his lips and glanced at the three of them nervously.

Duncan glanced through the paperwork. "Thomas Wheeler… American. Your passport indicates you entered the country four days ago."

"Yes… I'm on vacation."

"And you spend your time staring at my house." Duncan paced slightly.

"I'm… I'm… I'm…"

Duncan leaned into the man's face and glared. "I have no patience with liars… and I don't like being lied to. Now tell me who you are and why you were watching my house."

Wheeler glanced at all three immortals and then nodded. "I followed you after one of you killed Hassan… I assume all of you are immortal."

Duncan rose to his full height, crossed his arms and stared hatefully. "Where's your tattoo?"

"I'm sorry… my what?"

"Your Watcher tattoo?"

Wheeler's eyes widened in fear. "You shouldn't know about us."

"Well I do! Now where is it?"

Wheeler reached for his handkerchief, to wipe it across his perspiring brow. "We stopped using them a few years ago. They were too visible."

"How do you recognize one another now?" Duncan's voice was a low menacing growl. "Secret code words?"

"Something like that… listen… I'm no threat to you… I'm not even certain who you are. I was visiting Hassan's Watcher when I noticed you three hurrying away in the crowd after the quickening. My friend stayed to clean up the mess… I followed you. I really am on vacation."

"Have you reported us?"

Wheeler blanched and nodded.

Duncan smiled, "Well… in that case…" He cold-cocked Wheeler and watched him slide down in the chair." Nodding to Ian he murmured, "Tie him up." He grabbed Alisaunne's arm. "We have to pack now." Hurriedly he ushered her out of the room. "Get what you need. As last time… we can buy anything else when we get where we are going."

For once, Alisaunne did not argue. As she turned to pack, she smiled. They would be leaving here… together… Perhaps she would get another chance to see what she could do. Eagerly she tossed essentials into a bag and grabbed their paperwork.

Within the quarter hour… the three, with Ian slightly behind and carrying their bags… hastened through the sleepy streets and away from the compound they had called home for three years.

-----

Duncan wiped the shaving cream away and stared at his clean-shaven chin. He'd left a mustache for the time being. After checking into a mid-level hotel room… the three of them had begun working on changing appearances. Among the few clothes they'd brought… were ones that would help.

"I thought the Watchers were basically benevolent… or at least non-threatening," Ian asked from the doorway.

"Do you recall the bearded man who was with us when we faced Nestor?" When Ian nodded, Duncan continued. "I've been in email contact with him occasionally in the past three years. The last message I had from him mentioned immortals vanishing… and strange followers."

"You think he wasn't a Watcher then?"

"I think if he was… then the Watchers are something other than what we thought they were. There was a group of them back in the early nineties… they used to kill immortals. They were supposedly drummed out… but…" Duncan shrugged. "At any rate… I didn't want to take a chance. Now… let's see what we can do for your appearance."

An hour later… Ian looked like a wealthy young student. His shaggy hair had been neatly cut and slicked back. He now wore tailored and expensive slacks, a blazer and an English school tie over his white dress shirt.

Alisaunne had trimmed her hair to shoulder length, and then put it up. Between that, and the heels, dress suit, and over-large glasses… she looked ten years older than she was. Duncan stood next to her in his business suit and nodded. "We just might pull this off."

Using his PPC, Duncan made flight arrangements. They'd take several flights and use several sets of identity papers. "We won't have our weapons with us because of security… so I'm booking us back to back." he told them somberly. "You remember how we did it when we left Paris? Same routine. Stay silent if at all possible… follow my lead."

They gathered their belongings and vanished from the hotel… claimed a taxi a few blocks further on and arrived a half hour later at the airport where they checked in… an Indian couple and their teen-aged son… on the way home… to New Delhi. Duncan did all the talking… his accent perfect. He did not relax until they were in the air; Alisaunne wedged between the two of them in coach.

Ian pulled at his necktie and grimaced wishing he could lace his fingers with those of Alisaunne, "It'll be fine… when we get to the end of the line… it'll be fine."

Playing her role to the hilt, Alisaunne had crossed her legs and was casually flipping through a magazine. She glanced at Ian condescendingly and winked. Then she adjusted her glasses and pretended to read.

-----

Avril Mischkov and his squad arrived in Tunis by mid-afternoon. Unable to raise Tom Wheeler by his cell phone… they used the GPS transponder inserted in his skin to track him. When they found him tied up in the deserted compound… Mischkov called Rawlins.

"They are all gone. Evidently they caught sight of Wheeler and bolted." There was a long pause. "Yes sir." Mischkov hung up the phone, crossing the room to where Wheeler sat still tied up… his eyes watching every move.

"What happens now?" Wheeler licked his lips and was shaking.

"Your contract will not be renewed. You have been retired." Mischkov said flatly. He slowly screwed the silencer onto his Beretta. "I'm truly sorry."

"Please… I have a family."

"They will receive compensation for your loss in the field." Mischkov fired… the bullet went between Wheeler's eyes and into his brain. He died instantly.

Mischkov removed the silencer, wiped the gun and tossed it across the room. "If we have everything… let's go. This mess will likely have the local authorities on the lookout for… what was the name they were using here… ahh yes… al Kahir."

The retrieval squad left… boarding a private aircraft bound for Paris within the hour.


	37. Chapter 35

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Chapter 35

Paris, later that evening

Joe Dawson left the club early. He was tired… and he was exasperated. Amy had managed to get Burt to take the children to England and to her mother's… promising to fill him in on everything when he returned. Then she'd calmly returned to work… as if nothing had happened. However, she'd not had any luck at work today learning anything new.

"It might take a few days… I can't push too hard."

Joe had nodded. But he was worried. One… that something had happened to Methos… he felt certain. Surely his ancient friend would have called him on that cell phone if he could have. That he hadn't… only raised Joe's fears. Two… he and Amy would have to talk to Burt once they knew something for certain. And three… three… Joe needed to find time to go to the church… but he had to make it look very casual.

He put the key into the lock on his front door and heard a footstep shift on gravel in the shadows. Turning slightly he was aware of someone just out of sight.

"Shh… just leave the door unlocked, Joseph. Someone is still watching you." Eleanor's soft voice whispered from the darkness.

"Damn girl, we gotta stop meeting like this." Joe grinned… then opened his door and entered… making certain he turned on the usual lights and went through his usual routine… except he did not re-lock the door… nor throw the bolt.

Thirty minutes later, Eleanor, dressed in dark clothes slipped through the front door and locked it behind her. She tossed him a smile. "Just thought I'd check on you. Your watcher just left for the evening."

"Yeah… he knows I'm usually down for the count on nights I come home early." He gestured about the room. "Have a seat?"

Eleanor stood at the door and looked around… Joe thought she looked nervous enough to bolt any moment.

"I drew the drapes, there are no bugs… No one will know you're here."

Eleanor nodded and smiled. Finally she crossed to the sofa and curled up. "Can we dim some lights?"

"You betcha!"

Joe turned a few off and settled down beside her. "What now?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd learned anything?"

Joe shook his head sadly. "And you?"

Eleanor likewise shook her head. "I know he's alive, Joseph… but that's all I know. I can't find him… I can't even tell how far away he is or what direction."

"Well even knowing what you do know… that's remarkable… how?"

"I've always known… to some extent. He was always a reality in my mind. Darius was the same way. You recall my telling you about being in Hong Kong and being able to close my eyes and just know where he was… where Paris was."

Joe nodded. It was one of the stories she'd told him in the hosital eight years ago. He'd written it down in the journal he'd created about her in the years that followed.

"It didn't make sense then… and now… I don't know how to explain it. Methos and I have shared visions… and through those… we share a common consciousness… if we both want."

"Maybe he's just blocking you out somehow."

"No… he was before… then he took a quickening… and opened wide to let me in and then… everything was just strange… as if he were still there… but not thinking… as if he were caught in a moment of memory… that was frozen somehow." She shook her head… rubbing her arms and shivering slightly. "Something is wrong."

"We'll get to the bottom of this Ellie… I promise you. I'm gonna do everything I can to get him back for you… find him… whatever." Joe looked around. "Where's Derrick tonight?"

"Nearby… he's keeping an eye out to be certain no one else takes up watching your house while I'm here. Since you don't know anything yet… I should be going." She smiled. "When's your next early night?"

"Not for another week. But you set a night and I'll be here."

Ellie shook her head. "No… no deviation from routine… not yet." She reached out to clasp his arm. "I'll be in touch." Leaning over she kissed his cheek and then rose to unlock the door. Just before she opened it she paused and then looked back… "Thank you." Then she was gone.

Joe bolted the door after her, turned off the lights, and headed to bed. Tomorrow… he just might pay a call on some old Watcher friends… purely social, of course. But maybe it was time to stop pussyfooting around so much. He needed answers… and he wasn't going to find them unless he did something.

His eyes fell on the picture of his grandchildren. They were safe. They were in England. They were out of the line of fire. He had to believe that. No matter what was going on with Rawlins and his group… surely small children would be safe. He set the framed photograph down, turned out the last light… and went to bed.

-----

Eleanor slipped around the corner from Joseph's house and found Derrick right where she'd left him. The boy gave her a quizzical look, as if wondering "What next?"

Eleanor slipped an arm through his. "Back to the grove," she whispered.

"Dawson didn't know anything?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Not yet… but at least we have another way to meet with him if necessary."

Swiftly the two crossed traffic and headed into the old part of the city. Eleanor let Derrick lead the way while she concentrated on feeling for immortals about them. They were lucky… she felt no one. Once they were back in the grove… Derrick unrolled the sleeping bag they'd bought earlier and spread it on the floor of the main room. "I get the floor tonight," he announced with a smirk, and settled in without another word.

Eleanor chuckled as she turned out the overhead light and shut the door to "her" room. She crossed to the window and looked down on the churchyard across the street. All was dark over there. There were no lights… no one lived in Darius' old cell any longer. Even the priest who served the church lived elsewhere… she doubted he used the room for anything besides storage. Just beyond she could see the skyline and make out lights on Notre Dame. Further on she could see the Eiffel Tower… lit up and marking the heart of Paris. If she closed her eyes… she could visualize the myriad streets… as they were… and as they had been. If she'd been using the sewers… she could count the number of chambers… and the number of turns… on how to get where she needed to be. But to re-open the gate to the sewers was dangerous… and yet… If they were to remain here… she would need those passages… to facilitate their travel about the city.

Finally she turned away from the window and crawled onto the bed. She was tired… and her head still pounded… more from the lack of Methos' presence she now felt… than from her attempts to reach him. She'd barely tried all day… choosing instead to just remain open to his thoughts. If he became aware of anything… if he sent a thought her way… she'd know.

On the narrow bed, she curled around the pillow in her arms and ached for him. "_Come back to me!_" she thought. "_Come back to me!_" Eventually… she slept… and in dreams she seemed to ride behind him once more… holding tightly to him beneath his cloak as his horse pounded the earth and the sands shifted at their passing. The desert sun beat down brightly on a near colorless world of sand and rock and blood. He drew his sword and together they plunged into the fray… an ancient battle cry on their lips.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Henry Rawlins stepped out of the elevator into the underground complex. His feet clinked solidly on the iron grating of the overhead catwalk surrounding the lower chamber. He paused at one point and stared down with satisfaction.

"The answers we seek are almost all here," he whispered in the chill semi-darkness. Below… white garbed personnel moved among the partitions… taking readings… checking vitals… re-adjusting the level of medication. Rawlins smiled… but it was more like that of a wolf who knows the prey is his.

"Mr. Rawlins," came the whispered, almost apologetic voice behind him.

Rawlins turned to regard the architect of this project… Dr. Julius Wilderman. The Watcher slowly arched one eyebrow as he regarded the short stoop-shouldered Wilderman. An elderly man, the portly scientist had white wisps of hair like an aureole surrounding his balding head; wire-rimmed spectacles covered his pale blue eyes. In his hands he clutched a PPC. Rawlins had heard Dr. Rawlins speak at a medical convention almost ten years ago regarding bio-feedback, computers, and memory. Inspired… by Wilderman's claims, Rawlins had suddenly seen the future… and he had acted upon it swiftly.

"Yes doctor," the tall, blonde Watcher said sibilantly… being certain to add a pleasing smile as well… a smile however, that held no warmth.

"We are nearly ready for the first set of experiments." He paused, pulling out a large handkerchief with which he wiped his perspiring forehead. Even in the cold of this place… Wilderman was perspiring heavily… not a good sign. "We have nearly gathered all the requisite data… but…"

Rawlins waited. He did not wish to seem overeager.

"There's a slight… discrepancy in one of the last ones you brought in… number 47," Wilderman finally said.

Rawlins heart beat heavily. He'd made certain no one here would know who was who among the specimens… but he did. "Number 47?" he managed to get out evenly, with no trace of the excitement he felt. "What about him?"

"It's easier if I show you, sir." Wilderman motioned for his boss to follow him down the stairs and into one of the curtained partition areas.

Rawlins' eyes traveled over the inert form of the male known simply as number 47. This had been an especially welcome catch. The attendant with the specimen was checking his readings and entering data on her PPC. Wilderman held his up.

"With most of the specimens… we have been carefully tracking their brain-wave functions under the drugs. When they dream… we get a particular signature… as so. With a little more fine-tuning… we should be able to feed the data into the system and the program will decode it… allowing us to… in effect… _see_ their dreams. It's only the first step, however…"

"Yes.. yes!" Rawlins snapped. "You have explained this part!"

"Yes… well… with number 47… there is something… interesting." He held the PPC out once more for Rawlins to see the readout. "This is number 6… a male of similar build and obvious physical age. And here is number 23… the same. But this is number 47." Wilderman waited… hoping Rawlins would see what he saw.

But the man didn't.

Wilderman pointed at the line. "This is the thought pattern as he dreams."

Rawlins stared blankly.

"It is a double line…"

Rawlins stared at it.

"Whenever he dreams… there is another mind there. He is mentally linked to someone. Someone… we don't have."

"How do you know it's not one of the others?"

"Because the thought pattern of each specimen is distinctive. None of the others… matches his. Ergo: there must be another. Without this other one… I doubt number 47 will be of use to us."

Rawlins regarded the specimen coldly. "_It would have to be him!_" Crossing his arms before him, Rawlins let one hand rub across his face as he considered his options. Finally… he made his decision. "Continue to observe this one. Leave him out of the initial experiments. I may know who the other is… and if so… I'll collect it. I only just missed obtaining it recently, so it's likely only a matter of time." Nodding curtly to Wilderman, Rawlins pivoted and marched out of the area.

He pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number for Avril Mischkov. "Finding MacLeod is now our number one priority. Put whomever you need on it. Pull in extra people… but be careful." Snapping the phone shut, Rawlins climbed back to the catwalk. As he gazed out over the area once more he felt a great sense of satisfaction. "Soon…" he hissed. "Soon all you know, all the power you have, will be mine."


	38. Chapter 36

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Chapter 36

Rome

Darkness had fallen by the time Duncan, Alisaunne, and Ian arrived at their hotel in Rome. They'd made no less than four flights before finally reclaiming luggage and passing beyond the security gates of the final airport. Duncan had flagged a taxi and settled wearily into the front seat next to the driver while Alisaunne and Ian… keeping a mother-son decorum to their body language sat in the back… saying nothing.

The driver kept up a stream of Italian and English… interspersed with a touch of French as he attempted to comment on the sights as he drove madly through the streets. Duncan had chuckled, but refrained from correcting the man about several of his observations on said sights. He'd given the man a generous but not overly generous tip and had checked in with the concierge before allowing the bellhop to carry their luggage to the suite. Again… Duncan tipped handsomely… but not outrageously. He wanted the man's service… but did not wish to raise any suspicions.

Once the door to the suite was shut… all three immortals finally let out sighs of relief. It had been a long and very tiring day. Duncan crossed to the wide window wall and pulled the heavy drapes against the night. Turning back to the young couple he noticed that Alisaunne was already in Ian's arms… holding on to him as if she hadn't seen him in days. The boy's eyes were closed as he held her… it was evident pretending to be mother and son had taken its toll on them.

"Why don't you two get some sleep," Duncan finally said. "The suite has two bedrooms… You two take the larger one."

"I'm so tired. I didn't realize remaining so still and so quiet could be more tiring than the workouts you put me through," Alisaunne managed. Already her upswept hair was coming loose as she ran her fingers through it. She'd tossed the glasses on a nearby table.

Duncan smiled as he settled into a chair. "I never used to go to this much trouble. I never used to worry if the Watchers knew who I was or where I was. But I don't want them finding you… at least not for a while. Not until I know for certain what this is about."

Alisaunne disentangled herself from Ian and, stepping out of her heels and unbuttoning her suit jacket crossed to stand over the Highlander. "Do you think we lost them?"

Duncan glanced up at the young woman, noticing for the first time the fine lines apparent about her eyes and mouth. She was worried… and not just for herself. He smiled. "I'm certain we managed to lose anyone who might have been watching us in Tunis. Now… we just have to be certain we don't get picked up here by anyone. Go to bed… You both need sleep."

Alisaunne nodded, reaching out for Ian as she headed for bedroom. The boy stood watching Duncan. "What do we do now?"

Duncan blew out a lungful of air and glanced up at the boy… letting his brown eyes meet Ian's blue ones. He smiled reassuringly. "We'll worry about that tomorrow. I'm going to try and reach some friends tonight… now that we've stopped for the night. Depending on what I learn… we'll decide tomorrow."

Ian gazed at him thoughtfully and then seemed to agree. There was nothing for them to do tonight. He let Alisaunne lead him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

Duncan focused on his PPC and emailed Phillip. The Greek did not pick up his email on any regular schedule, Duncan had realized over the years. So few people even knew how to contact him… that Phillip sometimes forgot to check it at all. Carefully Duncan entered the code Phillip had taught him so that the Greek would contact him… and shut the system off. His own email box… had been empty. There were other… more open addresses he could check… but Duncan wasn't really interested in anything from anyone else. What he wanted… was to talk to Phillip… arrange a meeting… discuss this Watcher business that made him worry about these mortals as once he'd worried about Horton's faction.

Horton's men had been thoroughly drummed out of the organization… at least that's what Joe had once told him… over the years. In 1996, after the Watcher-Immortal War… as it had been called, a new council re-dedicated to restoring the old ways had taken control. They'd lasted maybe seven years. Duncan feared that after Joe's feeding the immortals information during the Nestor affair back in 2003, that council had heard its own death knell. Joe had been drummed out… and new people had come into power… people that neither Duncan MacLeod… or Joe Dawson knew.

Had a faction of the Hunter's returned to power somehow? Had they hidden their beliefs until they could safely wrest control of the Watchers away from other more sympathetic mortals? If so… were they still killing immortals? Duncan needed more information… and he needed it now.

He scanned news services and filed stories of murders, decapitations, strange lightning storms of a localized nature, in short… anything that might indicate immortal activity in certain areas. He saw very little. What he did find offered few, if any clues. If the Watchers were covering things up… then there wouldn't be too much evidence of immortal activity. Then again… perhaps immortals were simply staying out of the way… laying low as Phillip had mentioned in one email about a year ago.

"I worry Highlander," the email had read when translated, "that someone new is hunting our kind. Someone who knows our weaknesses and is preying on them."

Finally Duncan shut the PPC off. He glanced momentarily at the old laptop… wondering if anything might make sense to him tonight. He finally decided he was too weary to even consider it. Rising, Duncan headed to the smaller of the two bedrooms off the main room of the suite… and eagerly embraced the bed.

He was far more weary than he could have imagined… but somewhere in his dreaming mind were war cries as ancient warriors streamed forward into battle.

-----

Come morning… the smells of breakfast and the sounds of conversation finally roused Duncan. He was still tired… as if his sleep had been anything but restful. Stretching on the bed he tried to focus on what he was hearing… but nothing made clear sense. He rubbed a hand over his shaven chin… trying to decide if he should shower and shave or see what the others were up to. The growling in his stomach made his decision for him.

In the main room… a room-service cart had arrived with breakfast. Alisaunne was wrapped in a burgundy velour gown… compliments of the hotel… as was Ian. They looked like a couple of kids on a honeymoon.

"I hope you two didn't answer the door together like that." Duncan snapped as he lifted the domes and filled a plate.

Alisaunne who no longer looked the fictional thirty-six she had yesterday kicked up her heels from the sofa and laughed as she chomped on her croissants. "We scandalized the waiter. In fact… we asked him to join us!"

Ian cackled as he flopped beside her.

"Glad somebody slept well," Duncan snarled.

"Looks like somebody we know didn't!" laughed Ian.

Duncan slammed his plate on the table so loudly the two younger immortals jumped. "This isn't a game. The more people who see us… interact with us… the harder it will be to change identities and move on. Now… what did you do?"

"He didn't see me," a properly chastised Alisaunne whispered. "I stayed out of sight… as you have often said… but Duncan… why? Why should I stay out of sight? You never explain anything… not really. You just tell me to do things and I do them because I trust you, but I really would like answers… real answers one of these days."

Duncan stared at her and then looked away… uneasy.

"Duncan we were careful. I was properly mute…" continued Ian. "I just signed for the food."

"Who ordered?"

The two looked at one another. "I did," admitted Alisaunne. "I was properly mature."

"What language did you use?" Duncan persisted.

Alisaunne's eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. "French… I think."

"Next time know… and next time… think about who you're supposed to be… and what language you're supposed to know. You have to learn to turn a deaf ear to what you overhear and not overtly react to things you are not supposed to understand. Never…"

"Never let on how much you know," Alisaunne finished. "I remember."

"Then start acting like it. You are behaving like a child… a child whose actions may get us all killed!"

Alisaunne seemed to deflate. She sobered and sat huddled on the couch. Ian glared at Duncan a moment and then rose. "I think I'll grab a shower."

As Ian left, Duncan threw his fork onto the plate and sat back. Rubbing a hand over his face and neck he finally admitted to himself that he'd come on a little strong. "I'm sorry, Alisaunne. It's been a rough couple of days and I'm tired and stressed."

"I know. It's been rough for me, too… first killing a man… no an immortal… dealing with the confusing feelings of the aftermath… your vanishing for two nights and a day… the Watcher… this whole traveling incognito business… I'm just a little confused."

Duncan chuckled feeling a somewhat lighter mood come over him. As he poured himself some coffee from the carafe he teased, "Only a little confused?"

Alisaunne sat forward, her hands clasped. "I keep getting this feeling from you that there is something more going on here than just you training me as your student. Why is that?"

Duncan sipped thoughtfully, a moment. Finally he set the cup down and sighed. "All my students are dead Alisaunne. Every one of them. The ones I trained. The last one I had… I killed." He paused noticing the shock in Alisaunne's eyes. "I didn't mean to… it just happened. But I don't want you dead before your time."

"I don't want me dead either… but this is more than that going on with you these days. There is an intensity in you that seems to boil over when I fail even a little. Sometimes I feel as if nothing I will ever do will be fast enough or strong enough or smart enough for you. You are like some parent who wants to live a life through the success of a child. And I know that's not it."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I only want you to understand that out here in the real world… it is kill or be killed and you have to be ready. Not all immortals you meet will simply smile and fall in love with you." Duncan immediately regretted the last statement. He pushed back his chair and strode to the windows… pulling open the drapes slightly to stare at the vista.

She came up silently to stand beside him. "Is that what this is about? Surely you aren't…"

He turned to her. "Aren't what… wondering what it would be like to kiss you… make love to you? Yes… I wonder about those things."

Alisaunne held her robe even closer and stepped back. "I think of you like an uncle… or a big brother. Don't get me wrong… but I don't…" She shook her head.

Duncan shook his head sadly, "I'm sorry… I didn't mean for any of that to come out… partly because I don't understand it myself. I don't love you that way… I want you to be happy… or at least as happy as any of us can be. It's just that… working so closely with you… now that you're immortal… things are different."

"What things?" she screamed. "What's so different?"

"Everything," Duncan mumbled as he re-entered his bedroom and slammed the door.

Behind him in the main room of the suite, Alisaunne stood confused. What had begun as a perfectly enchanting morning… waking up to Ian's caresses in that big bed… the room service… food that reminded her of long ago… before she was an immortal… and the joy she felt at being anywhere else other than that desert land to which they'd fled… had all evaporated. Slowly Alisaunne entered the other bedroom. She could hear the water running as Ian showered. Flinging herself on the bed… she wanted to cry… but that was something she might have done years ago… when she'd still been a child. And… as Duncan had reminded her… she was not a child… not any more.

Sitting up on the bed she stared into the mirror… really stared at the face that looked back at her. It was not the face of a teen-aged girl… it was the face of a woman. Even without the glasses and upswept hair she'd worn yesterday… it was clear she looked far older than Ian did. Removing the robe… she stood and observed her reflection, turning slightly back and forth. She was tall… about five ten, her deeply tanned skin radiated health. Slim-hipped and full-breasted she was as Ian had once called her, a delight for any man to gaze upon. She ran her fingers through her dark hair and peered closely into the mirror at her round face and at the grey eyes, which stared back at her.

The water stopped. Ian entered still dripping-wet and drying himself. "Are you all right, lass?" he asked gently. He'd filled out some in the past few years as Duncan had worked him nearly as hard as he'd worked her. Ian's arm muscles bulged slightly as he toweled off. His blue eyes seemed oddly out of place in his still darkened skin and black hair. He looked so very young.

Alisaunne began crying, hiccuping slightly as she sobbed. She felt Ian's wet arms go about her as she buried her face in his damp chest. "I love you Ian Daffyd! I don't want there to be only one! I want us both to live!"

"Here now… With luck neither of us will be dying any time soon. You listen to me Alisaunne des Pres, we'll have each other for as long as we can hold on… and we have the greatest warrior of the immortals to teach us and lead us. Duncan MacLeod willna let anythin' happen to either of us."

But his words only made her sob more.


	39. Chapter 37

****

Chapter 37

Niebos, Greece

It was nearly noon before Phillip finally stirred. They'd all arrived during the night on that boat he'd hired… being unwilling to wait for the morning ferry… and hoping to remain out of sight.

Phillip's villa was never meant to play host to a large number of people. As an immortal… he had few friends… and even fewer who knew where he lived. Arriving at the estate, he'd suddenly realized he had ten guests… and only three bedrooms.

He'd installed Nick… with the ever-present Valeraine in one room and given a second to Luke and Amanda. He'd offered the third to Madrigal and Denara… but they'd declined… choosing instead to bed down on the huge terrace with the three boys.

"We lambs stick together!" Madrigal had said simply. It was a rule they'd all learned at the convent long ago. Whenever two or more left the convent together… they were responsible for one another. So Phillip and Ursa had bedded down in Phillip's room.

Awakening… Phillip observed that Ursa had already risen. Phillip splashed cold water on his face and stared at his mirrored reflection wondering just how the hell he was going to explain all this to his small staff or to the village elders. Long ago, the people of Niebos had simply accepted Phillip's presence… and that of his occasional friends… as some blessing of the old gods who'd once ruled the land. They said nothing… and kept his secret. In return… Phillip protected them… watched over them… kept them safe. Now… there were ten immortals here… and there were people out in the world that wanted them all… what? Dead? Phillip was still uncertain about what had happened at _Ste. Genevieve_ beyond that someone had been watching them there… and had come to collect at least some of them.

"Time to face the world you old Greek!" he finally grimaced to his reflection and headed down the corridor to the other rooms. A glance onto the terrace showed him four sleeping children. Madrigal was curled up on the chaise, while Micah and the two younger boys were wrapped in blankets on the flagstone surface. Phillip closed his eyes and felt one additional presence close-by.

Opening the glassed doors to his darkened office, he could just make out the small form of Denara curled on the sofa… still clutching that over-sized stuffed rabbit she always held. Even knowing that her blade was secured within the toy… did nothing to dispel the air of innocence about the four year old… however old she was.

Sitting up suddenly Denara sighed with relief, smiled at him and then re-settled on the couch. Phillip backed away and headed for the kitchen. He needed to see what was available to feed all these people. Whistling he sauntered into the sunlit kitchen and began searching through his larder for what he'd need to fill the stomachs of eleven hungry immortals.

Outside the back door he felt Ursa. Pausing, Phillip opened the door to stare at the gentle giant. Ursa was seated on a bench… his great axe in his hands… staring at the mountain.

"No one will bother us here Ursa," Phillip said softly.

"Not holy ground… Ursa must watch. Protect small ones."

Phillip stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and casually strolled to Ursa's side. "I know that. But I also know this… there is holy ground nearby if we need it." He crouched beside the large immortal. "But I don't think we will. Besides… if it's mortals who come for us… we need to be able to fight them."

Ursa nodded numbly and then pointed towards the mountain. "We go to holy place?"

Phillip stared at the mountain… knowing full well that holy ground was the secluded beach on the far side. "Perhaps later… I'd like to show the small ones."

"Nick," Ursa said flatly. "We take Nick there."

Phillip narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Old Ones want Nick there."

Phillip nodded slowly… there was some truth in that… but… "Ursa… without the oracle… the old ones will not speak to us." The Greek wondered how it was Ursa knew of the beach… and of its history. Surely if he had ever come to Niebos before… Phillip would have known of it.

"Ursa carry Nick to holy ground," the giant said… and then settled once more into whatever reverie filled his addled mind. Phillip remained beside the giant for some minutes before quietly rising and returning to his kitchen… and the preparation of breakfast.

He was nearly finished with the cooking when he heard something shatter and voices raised in an argument. Swiftly turning the flame out under the food… Phillip grabbed a butcher knife as he raced through the house.

He nearly collapsed laughing when he got to the scene, however. His housekeeper, _Madame _Kouris had disturbed Denara and the two of them were railing at one another in Greek… and Denara definitely had the upper hand over the old widow. Not only that but she was nearly ready to pull her weapon from her rabbit.

Phillip eased _Madame_ Kouris out the door assuring her he would explain later… and giving her the day off. Once accomplished he turned and scooped Denara and her stuffed rabbit into his arms. "Little one… my servants do not precisely know about us… as I've seldom had few of us here. Needless to say… one such as you she has never seen."

"She woke me and when I yelled at her to get out and let me sleep… she called me a wicked child," she lisped insistently. "I am neither!" Denara lay her head on Philip's shoulder, her lower lip protruding sadly.

"I know… but we must all play the game… just a little." He carried her out to the terrace where the other children were stirring. "Anyone hungry?" Met by four eager faces… Phillip led the way back to the kitchen and finished dishing the food up. Over conversation centered around the island and its inhabitants… and its history… Phillip felt oddly at peace for the first time since leaving the convent.

Madrigal fixed a tray of food for Valeraine and Nick and left with it. On the way she passed Luke… now in modern attire and Amanda, who stepped aside to let the girl complete her errand.

"Where's Ursa?" Amanda asked, filling a plate for herself.

"Outside." Phillip likewise filled another plate to take out to the giant. Handing it to him… Phillip breathed deeply of the familiar air of home and sat beside him while Ursa ate. In the vineyards… the Greek could hear the familiar songs of the workers… and from below in the village… the peal of the church bells. There was much to do… he'd been away too long. True he'd kept in touch via computer… allocated funds… made decisions… handed down judgments… whatever he as a benevolent _patron_ was expected to do… but still… Phillip preferred to be hands on… and not an absentee landlord. But before he could deal with things here… he had to figure out how to settle the convent's inhabitants quietly into life on the island. While some would and should remain at the villa… Phillip worried about all of them staying here and becoming too much a topic of conversation. He worried that they were too visible here… but he'd known nowhere else to go… nowhere else that might be safe.

It was at times like this that he missed discussing things with Methos… or Eleanor. His two closest friends often had a perspective on life that he didn't… and he trusted their judgment. But they were far away… and he would not seek their help. Not for all the answers in the world would he disturb them. Phillip wanted his friends to have their time together. Having been in love… and having lost lovers… Phillip knew only too well the importance of lovers having time apart from the cares of the world. No… Methos and Eleanor he would not disturb. He would find his own way through this morass of confusion.

Once everyone was settled… he'd get on-line and check a few of his contacts about the current immortal/watcher situation and see if anyone else had noticed anything. Perhaps he'd get in touch with the Highlander again. Just then, Chou and Denis came rushing out… boyish spirits high and pleading for a tour about their new island home. Phillip sighed and put his thoughts on hold… while he dealt with handling the small ones and their questions.

-----

Mid-afternoon found Phillip with Amanda and the children at the top of Mt. Niebos where the small ones climbed on the stone walls as their voices rang out joyfully… obviously enjoying the freedom of the island's relative safety.

Amanda stretched out her legs and threw back her head in the sunshine as she sighed deeply. Glancing at Phillip she indicated the children with a nod of her head, "It's all too easy to forget that in some ways they really are children… children who never really had a chance to be young at heart… who all too often are merely immortals trapped in small bodies."

Phillip passed her a water bottle. "In all the years I've come here… the people I've watched climb the mountain to go to the beach… I've seen this excitement among many of them. There is a magic here Amanda… a magic that heals the heart."

"I suppose…" Amanda chuckled. "Either that or those immortals are just way too happy to be away from that convent. Maybe they think this is a field trip?"

Phillip roared with laughter… tears filling his eyes. After some moments he calmed down. "I'll have to remember that one for the tourist flyers for this place. 'The Perfect Class Field Trip… Guaranteed to Excite Even the Most Bored of Students'."

"So," Amanda continued, "You were really a boy here?"

Phillip nodded. "My second life was here." When Amanda looked at him, the question looming, Phillip continued. "Oh… no… I didn't die my first death here. I was a slave and accompanied my master here. He left… I didn't… and all I am or ever became I owe to Danae… the Oracle… Immortal and friend."

Amanda slipped one arm into Phillip's as they rose and motioned the children to head down the path to the beach. "Why do I think there is an amazing story in there somewhere."

Phillip chuckled. "Maybe I'll tell you one day."

"I hope so."

Once they reached the beach… they found Valeraine, Luke, Nick and Ursa waiting for them. Phillip hadn't wanted Ursa to have to carry Nick up the mountain… not certain that the crippled immortal would manage to remain quiet for the entire journey. Luke of course was far too old… and where Nick went… there too went Valeraine.

They waved as the others came down the mountain path to the cove. Luke was setting out a picnic lunch while Nick sat in the sun… facing the ocean. Beside him Valeraine whispered all she saw. Even as his feet hit the white sand beach… Phillip seemed to hear the call of the ocean's roar. He dropped his pack and waded into the water… staring at the waves crashing on the rocks off-shore. In his heart he wished for the Oracle… or for Eleanor… Phillip had many questions… but he knew there would be no answers this trip. Reluctantly he turned away and flung himself on one of the blankets Luke had spread. Well… it was a glorious afternoon… and he'd had many glorious afternoons here over the centuries. Phillip stretched out on the blanket and remembered them all.

-----

****

Moscow

Reagan Cole paused in the alleyway. She narrowed her eyes and watched the pedestrians hurrying past. She'd had the most distinct feeling that someone was following her recently. Hidden in the shadows she carefully observed all that wandered past. Finally satisfied that no one was too obviously waiting around… waiting on her… Reagan moved on… casually… very casually.

Three blocks later she stopped to stare in a store window and caught sight of someone stopping suddenly… too suddenly… and staring in another window. Reagan smiled grimly to herself. She turned and continued her walk down the crowded Moscow streets… her eyes carefully finding her follower each time she turned onto another street. By this time… it was not so much where she was going… as making certain her tail was actually following her. He was.

Reagan hurried up suddenly and then slipped into an alleyway. At the alley's entrance the man paused and looked about. Reagan reached out and pulled him into the alleyway… slamming him roughly against the brick wall.

"Who are you?" she asked plainly.

"I'm your Watcher, Reagan Cole… and I'm your friend."

"I choose my own friends. And what's a Watcher?"

"Mortals who know what you are… mortals who chronicle the story of your life… your immortal life. My name is Warren Green. I've been watching you for four years."

Reagan stepped back. "You have an interesting delusion… Mr. Warren Green. You think I'm what? Immortal?"

Warren pulled an old leather-bound book from inside his coat. "This is your chronicle… Believe me Ms. Cole. You and others like you are in grave peril."

Reagan took the offered book, her eyes falling on the odd _fleur de lis_ symbol burned into the cover. She'd seen this before… many years ago… on the arm of a trusted servant. Reagan flipped the pages of the book… her eyes landing on 1833… and a meeting with a certain Highlander. After reading a few paragraphs, Reagan nodded. "So you do know of me… and what I am… Again… why should I trust you or treat you as a friend?"

"Because, Reagan Cole, members of my organization are attempting to pervert what we have been for millennia… those who watch and record… but never interfere in the immortal lives of those we watch. There are those… who would interfere… I'm putting my own life in danger to talk with you… But… I believe in immortals… I believe in you."

Reagan chuckled. "I can take care of myself. There have been many men… both mortal and immortal… over the centuries who have threatened me. They are all dead. And I am still here. If you know my life… then you know this."

Green nodded. "I know… but I also know the people now in charge of the Watchers… and I know they will stop at nothing to possess what you have."

"What I have?"

"Your immortality."

Reagan looked out into the oncoming dusk of the Moscow evening. Grasping Green's arm she pulled him along. "We need to go someplace and talk… I want to know everything… _everything_."

Green nodded as he let Reagan drag him along behind her. He only hoped that his superiors did not have a tail on him… that they did not suspect his duplicity. As it was… he'd have to tell Reagan about the transponder imbedded in his thigh. They'd have to decide what to do about that if they needed to vanish completely.


	40. Chapter 38

****

Chapter 38

Rome

Ian nodded solemnly at Duncan's directions, pausing on his way out to kiss Alisaunne. He had a suspicion that whatever was strained between the two of them… they wanted to deal with it without his presence. All he knew for certain was that Alisaunne was a basket-case… weeping one moment and tossing things angrily the next… and Duncan? Well, the Highlander sat glaring at either his computer or the television. When he'd suggested that Ian make a covert sweep of the area… see who was about… friend or foe… Ian had been more than happy to oblige. He was also to see about renting a vehicle.

The young immortal changed into casual clothes… jeans, boots, a T-shirt, a light coat containing his sword, and headed out… his face partially obscured by a ball-cap and his reflective sunglasses. In his pocket was a cell-phone.

"Be careful." Duncan re-iterated even as Ian stood at the door. "No matter what… don't lead anyone back here."

Ian nodded as he closed the door behind him and sauntered down the hallway to the elevator. He hoped for all their sakes that whatever was bothering his friends, was settled by the time he returned.

-----

Within the suite… Duncan continued to glare without comprehension at his computer screen… while across the room… he was aware of Alisaunne's nervous pacing back and forth.

"Sit down!" he barked, a little more forcefully than he meant.

She stared at him… then she sat… on the far side of the room.

"Damn it all Alisaunne… I'm not going to attack you. I didn't even mean for all that to come out… but maybe we need to clear the air."

"Clearing the air… is that what you call this?" She practically spat at him. "I thought you were my friend?"

Duncan stood suddenly and nearly roared at her in reply. "I AM your friend!" He took a deep breath and then continued more softly, "I only have your best interests at heart. I know all too well what you went through… what you lost… and what you've gained. You are an immortal, Alisaunne… an immortal whom I would see survive more than a handful of years. You have to start taking all of this seriously. Our lives are not a game… no matter what we call it."

"I know that Duncan… I _have_ been paying attention to everything these last three years… but I never meant to tease you into feeling anything more for me… I just…" she folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes. "Before I met you… when you were only a name in that silly book… I admit I had a crush on you… but that's all it was…" she looked up and into his brown eyes, "a silly school-girl's crush. After everything that happened… you were simply my uncle's friend… and mine."

Duncan turned away. "I know that. But after you became immortal… after we left Paris… after I began working with you… things began to change. Maybe it was just being with you so much of the time."

"Then it is as Ian told me. It is time for us to go. I have entered the game… and all of our relationships have changed."

Duncan nodded, "That was the plan…except now… with this odd Watcher business… We need to stay together for a time. But I swear to you… nothing will happen… ever." He returned to his seat and stared once more at the computer game… looking at these images as if by staring at them long enough… somehow they'd begin to make sense. He was aware when she crossed to stand behind him… and stare over his shoulder… Duncan could smell her scent… feel her presence… He closed his eyes.

"Tell me about him… about the Darius you knew… the one I never did… the one who did that," she gestured at the screen. "Tell me how to reconcile the memories I have of a beloved uncle with that of an immortal general and… priest."

"I don't know that I can. I thought I knew him… as well as anyone… but now I wonder." Duncan reached and turned off the display screen. Closing the old laptop he thought of the priest he'd known for almost two hundred years… and the one that Ellie and Methos had evidently known… a man who kept secrets and who had left them puzzles to solve. He took a short breath, thoughtfully rubbing the fingers of his left hand across his lips. "Perhaps if you tell me what you knew of him… what you can recall… perhaps then we can find common ground."

"I was a child when he died. All my memories are so old… so fleeting."

Duncan looked up at her. "But you likely spent as much time with him in his final years as anyone. He wanted us to find you… help you… but he gave us no reasons. Perhaps the reasons are in your memories.

"But they're just flashes of things, Duncan… nothing is clear… I don't even clearly recall his face." Alisaunne wandered to the curtained window thoughtfully. "My clearest impression of him are his hands… as he showed me rune-stones… guided my hand in learning to reproduce the marks on them. I used to sit on his lap when I was very small… and I remember smelling…" Alisaunne closed her eyes as she tried to make the memory clearer.

"Incense?" asked Duncan.

Alisaunne's eyes snapped open. "That's it… That's it exactly… incense. I didn't know what it was at the time… But I smelled it later in services at _Sacre Coeur_. I just never put it together. Maybe that's why I was always happy at _Sacre Coeur_… it smelled like home."

Duncan rose and gingerly laid a soft hand on her shoulder… feeling her flinch slightly at his touch. "What do you remember… no matter how small or how insignificant it seems… what do you remember? Did he teach you anything he wanted you to remember? Did he show you anything? Did he give you anything?" He dropped his hand and stepped back… giving her some space. He'd asked her these things before… over the years… but she either had not recalled anything… or hadn't wanted to remember. This time… maybe she would.

Alisaunne shook her head. "Nothing that makes sense… other than… that last time I saw him. He came to see me at _Sacre Coeur_ shortly before my eighth birthday… said he was going away… on a trip of some sorts… He gave me his **_Candide_**. He'd read it to me when I was younger… he thought I'd like to read it for myself one day…" Alisaunne chuckled. "I was ecstatic. I loved the book. He'd once told me it had belonged to my mother…" She sighed. "Guess that was a lie like everything else. Inside the book was an envelope… and in the envelope was an old photo… You know… black and white… crinkled edges… a photo of a woman and two children."

"Who were they? Did he say?"

"I asked if it was my grandmother, my mother and him… He laughed. He told me no it was an old friend of his and her children." Alisaunne laughed. "He said her name was Eleanor… and that if I ever met her to tell her to face her greatest fears and find the answers." She glanced at Duncan. "And I did… She was there with your friend Dr. Pierson and their son… only… I suppose they were immortals so the boy wasn't their son." She shook her head. "All of you immortals… and risking your lives for me… why?"

"Because you were special to Darius for some reason." Duncan had never explained the legend of the born immortal child… nor did he understand why Darius had hoped Eleanor would one day meet Alisaunne. He wondered if Derrick knew… he hadn't seemed to… beyond just wanting Duncan to look after Alisaunne. "What happened to the book?" he suddenly asked.

Alisaunne glanced up at him with a smile. "Oh it was in my rooms in Paris when I died. You and Ian ushered me out of there so fast I didn't get a chance to go get it."

Duncan grinned. "I had a moving company gather all your things and store them. The book would still be in storage."

Alisaunne regarded him with curiosity. "Is it important?"

"Maybe… It could be nothing… but it might have a clue hidden in it." He turned and grabbed his PPC… making some inquiries. "When Ian gets back with the car… I think we may head to Paris."

-----

****

Paris

Avril Mischkov carefully looked over the dossier on Amy Meyers. She was an excellent researcher… In the years since Rawlins had come to power within the Watchers… the man had been carefully ushering the old timers out… and watching the younger ones… hoping to gather them all into the fold once his plans were made clear to everyone.

Meyers was a problem, though. She was close to former Watcher Joseph Dawson… unusually close. They spent time together… even now. There was some scuttlebutt that Dawson had been a close friend of Meyers' parents and, with her father's death… and mother's withdrawal from the young woman's life… that Dawson had stepped up and guided the initial stages of Amy Brennan-Thomas Meyers' early years within the organization. Recently, she'd been doing excellent research in the Paris library. And… as a friend of Dawson's… she might be in a position to find out if the old man knew anything about the whereabouts of Duncan MacLeod.

Flipping the pages back, Mischkov gave Meyers a cold smile. "You references are impeccable. You seem to know when to work… and when to show initiative."

"Thank you sir." Amy knew better than to say anything else. Saying more than was necessary was a good way to lose one's head… literally. Had she learned that from her years on the Methos project? She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

"You are still close to Joseph Dawson."

It was a statement… not a question.

"Yes sir." Again… Amy managed to keep from explaining why. Most people did not know of her biological tie to Joe… only those close to her… and no one currently in Watchers.

"Friend of your parents."

Amy nodded.

"We believe he may know where a vanished immortal is now hiding. Would you be willing to find out for us?"

Amy feared that Mischkov would hear her heart pounding… or note her increased tension. She forced herself to smile. "I might be able to find out."

Mischkov smiled coldly. "Excellent. Report to medical. Once that's taken care of… I'll give you your assignment."

Amy nodded and rose. To ask more might be seen as being suspicious. But medical? Calmly she opened the door and left. On her way to the medical floor… she wondered if the years of low profile might finally be paying off. But to watch Joe? To spy on her own father? Evidently Mischkov did not know what Joe meant to her.

In medical… an electronic tracking capsule was inserted subcutaneously in her left thigh. She winced at the momentary pain and then was handed an adhesive bandage.

"If it gets red or swollen… come back in… But you should be fine."

"So wherever I am… you can find me?"

The doctor looked at her sharply over her glasses. "I believe that it is a backup if we lose contact with operatives for any reason."

Amy nodded. "_I'll just bet it is_," she thought and quietly returned to the director's office, where she was scanned to be certain that it was operating correctly. Her "frequency" was entered into a file Mischkov kept in his office

She was handed a large manila envelope. Inside was basic information regarding Joe… and Duncan MacLeod. As she flipped through the papers… she realized she knew more than what was here… but there was no reason to mention that fact. Finally she sighed and looked evenly at Mischkov. "So… you want me to find Duncan MacLeod… and you think Dawson might have been in contact with him."

"Precisely." Mischkov was twirling back and forth slightly in his executive chair… while spinning an ink stylus in one of his hands. "We know you have dinner with Dawson about once a week… that you even named one of your children for him… Dawson Thomas I believe." When Amy nodded, he continued. "If MacLeod or any other immortal he was friends with over the years… like Amanda… or even _Methos_," Mischkov paused… with a slight accent and a smile on the name… "have been in touch… find out. Don't be obvious about it… or he might clam up. Just find out… and report back. Nothing further will be needed on your part at this time. Just a little surveillance. Nothing dangerous. Nothing… that could be considered betrayal of a friend. We've just lost track of a few immortals… and we'd like to find them again. For the sake of the Chronicles."

Amy nodded her agreement. Was this how they pulled people in? Just one step at a time. Spy on a friend one day… report on their activities… set them up… kill them. How far would she have to go? Rising… she shook Mischkov's hand, assuring him of her complete assistance in this matter and then left.

Back in the library she sat quietly at her research station for some time… calming her mind… thinking of what to say. Finally she called Burt.

"Honey… I'm thinking of going to Joe's tonight for a bit before coming home. Is there any way you could meet me there? Maybe we could share a drink… make an early night of it." When he agreed… Amy heaved a sigh of relief. She'd once told him if she needed to talk to him she'd invite him to join her at Joe's place… He was still upset that she'd insisted he take the kids to Liverpool to "visit" her mother… She'd only told him she'd explain… but not yet. Tonight she might have to.

Amy scratched absently at her "transponder" and worried just how she was going to get out of this when the time came… and she wondered just who she might have to offer up to the Watchers in place of Joe… or Duncan MacLeod.

-----

****

Moscow

"Drop your pants."

Warren Green nodded and dropped them. Reagan Cole pulled out a wicked looking switch-blade and grinned with a smirk. "Let's see if I can't deal with that." She leaned in and touched his thigh as she prepared to cut the electronic surveillance "bug" from his leg. As she touched him… he responded… most inappropriately under the circumstances.

"Sorry," he said and grabbed a pillow.

"Not to worry," Reagan laughed and cut swiftly and efficiently removing the unit. She turned while he grabbed some gauze to stem the bleeding, and then picked up the small cat they'd gotten. She made a small cut and inserted the transponder in the cat's thigh… then bandaged it. "There, there Kitty… all will be fine."

The cat hissed and headed under the bed when she let it go. Warren had explained that they couldn't just cut it out… it had to be in something alive and moving. "If it's not… they'll come looking."

Reagan helped bandage Warren's leg. "Once you feel like moving… we leave."

"I'm fine… As I said… they'll only start looking if I don't report in, or if they check the frequency and discover it's not on the move."

"Still… I'd prefer not to stay here. I haven't stayed alive this long without learning a few things. So explain to me exactly why you're on my side and not your friends' side."

"The ones in charge are not my friends… and I think they may have killed some friends of mine… friends who were recruited with me."

"Why?"

"Because they found out something. Because they saw something they shouldn't have… or were no longer needed."

"It is inefficient to kill one's operatives."

"I don't think they felt like they needed them after they _collected_ the immortals my friends were watching."

Reagan stretched out in the chair to regard the young mortal who was finishing doing up his pants. She smiled. "So… you think they are collecting us… for what reason?"

Warren shook his head. "I don't know… but Mallory… a friend of mine who was watching immortal Kyra a few years ago… said she'd heard rumors about some plan to either end the game or broaden it… she wasn't certain. Then Kyra vanished… Mallory made some waves about it… and Mallory turned up dead… senseless street violence was the official story."

Reagan nodded thoughtfully. "Well then… we need to find out what's going on. And we may need help… Any ideas?"

Warren shook his head. "I initially just wanted you to know… but now… I'm afraid to even go back. I have only one life… I don't want it to end prematurely."

The immortal laughed brightly. "Well then… I suppose I shall be Watching you for a change. First off… we need to leave Moscow." She reached under the bed, "Now where's that cat… we'll have to turn him loose to wander the streets here to give the illusion you are still on the job… at least for a while."


	41. Chapter 39

****

Chapter 39

__

Within the dream

Methos pulled on the reins of his horse and patted its neck affectionately. The pale horse was the latest in a long line of pale horses he'd ridden through the centuries. He'd stopped naming them long ago. They were just "horse" to him these days.

The encampment had fallen to their raid all too easily. A glance at Silas indicated the big immortal had grabbed all the fine cloths he could find… not many in that poor place… and had draped them about his huge form. Only his great ax remained free of adornment for the moment.

The man laughed with a huge grin, his voice rumbling on the wind, "Heh… heh… heh… It was a great raid Methos, Kronos will be pleased." He rode on, his massive black horse carefully finding its way down the rocky embankment. Behind them, the small band of mortal attendants they commanded followed… running on foot… loaded with food, dragging new slaves, herding new cattle. Methos waited until all had begun the descent before following.

At their encampment he rode through the mortal slaves, finally drawing to a stop before the grinning Kronos. Methos alighted and let Kronos clasp him in welcome. "It was a good raid, Methos?"

"It was an excellent raid, Kronos. You should have been there."

"Other plans… other concerns, my brother." He turned to yell at one of the slaves about where to place some of the plunder, leaving Methos to gaze at the small group of female slaves about one of the fires. His eyes fell on the on the green-eyed one, the one Silas had named Mynishka for her odd pale green eyes… like the palest gemstones… lost in her sun-darkened face.

In the years since Cassandra… the immortal slave he'd grown too fond of and had ultimately betrayed to insure his own survival, Methos had been very careful to never show interest in any other slave… especially the mortal ones who could die all too easily. He made certain to never call one to his tent too often… especially this one.

Casually he sauntered over, watching the women about the fire in their laughter and joking with one another… that time-honored way that women had of relating to one another when they thought no man was watching. As he approached they gradually quieted and lowered their heads… becoming still small objects… hoping to go unnoticed by one of the death riders.

He lay his riding crop along her face forcing her to look up at him… those pale eyes widened and then looked down. "Attend me!" he ordered, as he turned sharply to stride to his tent. Once inside he lolled indolently on the furs and silks, observing the shy slave.

She knelt and bowed low… as if properly offering her neck. Methos wondered which of his brothers had taught her that. She said nothing.

"Wash me!" he instructed. The girl bowed lower as she poured water from a stone crock into a bowl. Dipping a cloth into the water she approached tentatively, as if fearful he'd lash out at her. Finally she began to slowly wipe his face clean of dirt and war-paint. When finished she scooted backwards and "assumed" the position of subservience… awaiting his instructions.

Methos sighed. This was likely to be a long evening if he couldn't get her to relax a bit with him. Perhaps in his attempts to not favor her… he'd failed to spend enough time with her. He was a stranger to her. "Feed me," he finally said… a bit more gently than he might have.

Still looking down… the girl collected a nearby tray of fruit and offered it to him.

Methos once more lay his crop along her jaw and forced her to look up… directly at him. "If you are forever looking at the ground… how will you see what pleases me?"

The girl's eyes widened… those mesmerizing pale green eyes that were so out of place in this land. She nodded and slowly raised a piece of fruit to his mouth. He took a bite and then lounged back chewing thoughtfully. "Say something," he finally said. Once more she stared, this time licking her lips as she apparently tried to fathom what to say. "You do have a voice… I've heard you speaking to the other women."

She nodded. "What would you have me say, Deathrider?"

Methos laughed and sat forward clapping his hands together. "Is that who you think I am?"

"Yes." Her voice was so low he almost didn't hear her words. This time he used his hand to stroke her jawline… softly… tenderly. She met his gaze fearfully.

"Death is not always something to be feared," he said with a smile and clamped his mouth on hers… his hand moved to her shoulder and then down her back helping her to lie back while he hovered over her… still in the kiss. Then he raised up on his left arm while his right hand began to loosen and move aside her garment. She did not move… but stared only… his to use as he wished.

Methos shook his head and stretched out beside her with a smile. "Talk to me," he said once more. letting his hand tease up and down her bare chest.

"What would you have me say?"

"Anything… tell me a story," he laughed.

"A story?" There was interest in her voice a last. He nodded letting the smile almost become a smirk.

She stared into the distance, biting her lip. "The old grandmother, she used to tell me stories. Once there was no death in the world. Once all lived together and life was a summer's day. Once children were cherished and raised to embrace the life. But the people became too many… and the gods were jealous. They sent death to walk among the people…" She smiled and looked at him. "My grandmother told me many stories when I was small."

"Then whenever you come to me… tell me one of her stories," Methos said and bent to kiss her once more… carefully darting his tongue into her mouth. One of her hands rose… her fingers drifted upward… and touched his neck… the symbols on his neck… Methos pulled back a moment. "Eleanor?"

His wife lay in his arms and gazed at him with love. Methos smiled… lowering himself onto her and murmuring… "I've missed you… I've missed you." Her hand caressed his neck once more and the unity was ignited.

-----

****

Paris

"Ellie… wake up Ellie… Eleanor!" Derrick had waited until midday before starting to worry. Finally screwing up his courage… he'd knocked on the door. Not getting a response… he'd opened it and seen her writhing on the bed as if caught in the throes of something and had begun yelling at her. He reached forward to shake her… attempting to wake her up.

She came out of the dream with a scream… slashing at him… knife in hand. The knife sliced through his right forearm. Derrick yelped and fell back on the floor… attempting to stem the flow of blood.

"Derrick… honey? Oh gods what have I done?" Ellie seemed to come to herself in the aftermath of his slashing. She dropped the knife to grab the sheet, rip it into strips and wrap it around his arm. "It'll be fine… I'm so sorry. I've warned you never to wake me like that… It's not safe… whatever possessed you to touch me?"

"I was worried. It's mid-afternoon." Derrick's voice quavered from the pain. "You sit up all night and sleep all day. It's not right. I sit around and there's nothing to do and nothing to eat." He cradled his arm… his long legs drawn up about him. Tears began falling from his eyes.

Eleanor stared. She rubbed one small hand over his face and through his hair… giving it a slight tug. "Sit here… I think there're some medical supplies in a cabinet in the kitchen. She rose to search for things.

Derrick banged the back of his head against the wall and wanted to scream in pain and confusion. Seeing the bloodied knife lying on the floor he kicked it so that it slithered across the floor and under the bed.

"Here take these," Eleanor placed a couple of pills in his mouth and held a glass of water to his lips. "Just some pain pills… They'll help." Softly she brushed the hair out of his eyes and smiled wanly. "I'm so sorry baby. Let me get that cleaned up and I'll get some food. I keep forgetting you need more than I do. I'm sorry."

"I want to get out of here… Please Ellie. I don't like it here."

"Sure baby… we'll go get some dinner shortly. We can eat at that little cafe you liked the other day. Remember?" She smiled as he nodded. "Just sit still and I'll heat some water and take another look at this… You may need some stitches. Good thing I'm a doctor… or I was once upon a time."

Derrick felt the drugs take the edge of his pain. He lay his head back and nodded. Ellie's words became a blur.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Rawlins entered Wilderman's office, snapping at the elderly scientist. "So what's so damned important? I do have other priorities… other projects."

"I thought you should see this," Wilderman showed Rawlins the printout.

"What am I looking at?"

"The mind of subject number 47."

Rawlins lifted the print-out into his hands and stared at the double line. The two followed the same peaks and valleys. They were exactly the same… a hair's breadth between them. Gradually he unrolled the read-out from one hand into the other… and then he saw it… a peak of uncommon height… then the two lines diverged. He widened his eyes and stared at Wilderman. "What happened?"

"At the moment that happened… he was… dreaming… of an encounter of an intimate nature. At the moment the machines recorded that… machines all over the laboratory shorted out and had to be re-set. As you can see… the lines diverged. But what that means… we don't know as of yet."

"Intimate nature?"

Wilderman shrugged, "Physically he responded as if it were… real."

Rawlins collapsed into a chair practically laughing. He handed Wilderman the readout. "You're telling me he…"

"Yes… most definitely. But I think whoever was dreaming with him was… participating as well. We need the other."

Rawlins continued to chuckle. "Oh my… well I am working on it. When will you be ready for the first set of tests?"

"Tonight." Wilderman was clearly excited. "I have selected two specimens for the initial test. I do not believe they know one another or have ever met. The scenario is set. We can insert both of them into it… and watch their reactions."

"Excellent. Call me when you are ready to proceed." Henry Rawlins stood and headed out the door… pausing only to chuckle once more. "As for number 47. He is not to be used… not at present. Perhaps not until we have his dream partner. I look forward to seeing what we can learn at that time." Still chuckling… he left.


	42. Chapter 40

****

Chapter 40

Rome

Ian's Italian was perfect… as was his disguise. He fit right in with a number of young Italian men waving at the _signorinas_ in the crowded Rome streets. Many of the young men had small bikes and weaved in and out of traffic… calling "_Ciao_!" to the ladies. Ian adopted their mannerisms and found himself welcomed into their midst. Using them as cover… he wandered the areas… watching the crowds… listening to the gossip of the marketplace… and generally getting a feel for this ancient but oh so modern city.

He'd never been here before. Hell… he'd never really been too many places before finding _Ste. Genevieve_ and feeling he'd come home. He had to admit… that being out here in the world… was invigorating. Already he was thinking of things to tell Alisaunne and praying they'd have a chance to really see something of the city once Duncan gave the all-clear.

That reminded him of his friends' strained relations this morning. Both Duncan and Alisaunne had acted like the world was ending after he'd gotten out of the shower. Neither would say what it was. But it must have been something major. Alisaunne had wept and stormed. She'd been doing a lot of that since taking her first quickening… and it worried Ian. He knew they all changed some with each quickening they took… but there were moments that Alisaunne frightened him. Instead of bright and cheerful and loving… as she'd often been… lately she'd seemed so damned angry. And now Duncan positively glared at both of them. Ian truly hoped things would be calmer when he got back to the hotel.

He was just crossing the _Plazza Navona_ when he felt another… very close. Ian took a deep breath and continued walking… hoping that his momentary hesitation on the square had not led anyone to notice him. Three blocks later… with the presence still with him… and the pedestrian traffic thinning out, he knew he was being followed. He glanced about to find an out of the way and safe place for what he feared was coming.

Ian turned sharply into a blind alley whose rear was blocked by a retaining wall about six feet high and lined with broken glass. He walked about halfway into the alley, turned, and stood facing the entrance. He tried to recall all that Duncan had told him about facing opponents… about stillness… and knowing one's opponent. He continued to eye his surroundings carefully, assessing what might be a way out.

The immortal came to the opening… his form casting a shadow into the alleyway. As he walked forward he drew his weapon. "I am Raphael," he spit hatefully.

Ian remained calm… his hands clasped before him. "We don't have to do this."

"The final gathering is at hand. I have survived to participate. And you…" he laughed. "You seem a little young and more than a little unprepared."

Ian remembered something Duncan had told him. "Your relative youth may throw some of them off… especially ones who are young but don't look it. They may not have the experience to recall that for us… age is relative."

The Welshman smiled and shrugged. "We are what we are." In an economical move the Highlander had taught him… one that worked especially well with the _katan_a he now had Ian using… Ian drew his blade, took his stance, holding it above his head. He hoped the nervousness he was feeling was not evident in his face.

Raphael grinned and raced forward… slashing.

Ian blocked and turned… shifting to one side… letting his body remember the elegant moves… so that his mind was free. His _katana_ quavered with the force of the blows… yet he blocked them… as he had blocked many of Duncan's practice blows… many of Alisaunne's. They were better… but they had also made him better.

"The _katana_ can be the most lethal of weapons," Duncan had told him. "With the weakness in your right arm… a two handed-delivery is best for you… but this is lighter than a broadsword… you won't tire as quickly."

Ian turned and slid to one side… letting the blade slice open Raphael's stomach. The immortal hesitated as he stared at the wound and then looked deeply into Ian's calm face.

"Who are you?" the immortal whispered as he fell to his knees on the asphalt.

Ian shifted and held the _katana_ up. "I am no one… no one of any importance." And he let gravity do part of the work.

The quickening was not major… Raphael was less than fifty. He'd been trained by and had worked for an immortal known as Korda for many years… until Korda had died. He'd been on his own… returning to Rome… the city of his birth to hunt the streets… and make his fortune. One by one he'd been seeking the weaker immortals out… taking their heads… and their money. The lightning died. Ian staggered momentarily in its aftermath.

Glancing up at the elderly couple staring into the alleyway and wondering what the electrical disturbance was about, Ian quickly replaced his sword within his coat and turned to jump onto the stone wall behind him… flip over the broken glass and race away. He'd need to change his clothes… and alter his appearance somewhat before returning to the hotel. Duncan would not be happy!

Ducking into a doorway Iane tried to call the Highlander on the cell phone. It had shorted out as a result of the quickening. "Damn!" he swore thrusting it back into his pocket, as he headed off in a new direction.

Behind him, a thin man pushed past the elderly couple and came to a stop over the body of his assignment. An immortal that no one else apparently had under surveillance had evidently killed the Aftican-Italian and managed to vanish.

Arthur Kidman knelt at Raphael's side and expertly assessed the stomach wound as well as the clean-cut across the neck. Rising he backed away. This one was already public and the authorities were likely on their way… Already he could hear the beep of the approaching sirens. He'd have to leave. Kidman stared around at the alleyway and noted the retaining wall as he backed away… already punching in the number on his cell. "Mischkov… you said to be on the lookout for an immortal using a _katana_… I may have one… He just took out my assignment, the immortal Raphael in Rome. No… he vanished before I could get a good look at him but I don't think he has a Watcher. He managed to get away… but I doubt he'll get far… and there were witnesses." He nodded and listened for a few moments. "Right then… I'll wait." He closed the phone and remained where he was… observing the arriving authorities in the performance of their duties… just another on-looker in the growing crowd.

Alisaunne gazed nervously out the window. "Why hasn't he called?"

Duncan moved up to stand beside her. "He'll call. He's careful."

"But it's been hours… what could have happened?"

Duncan stared at her… then crossed to the armoire, pulled open the doors and turned on the television… looking for local news. He didn't have to look far.

"Nooo!" Alisaunne moaned when the story of an unidentified man beheaded near the _Plazza Navona_ came on. She raced for the door. Duncan met her there and pulled her back.

"You can't help him now. It might not be him. Wait Alisaunne! This is part of it…" He turned her to face him and stared into her eyes until she finally seemed to see him. "He'll call," Duncan smiled, "He'll call." He let her go when she nodded. "You have to believe that." He turned back to the television and watched and listened… wondering what he'd do if this _were_ Ian who'd lost a challenge.

His cell phone rang. It was an unknown number so he answered carefully. "_Si_," he said evenly as he motioned Alisaunne to be silent.

"Duncan… I'm fine… the… _storm_… knocked out my phone. I'll be a little bit late." Duncan nodded at Alisaunne with a smile, relieved to see her collapse in grateful tears on the divan. He turned toward the window. "Do you have the car yet?"

"On my way. Tell Ali I love her." The phone clicked off.

"Ian says he loves you," Duncan said gently as he shut off the television. He wanted to know more… but Alisaunne did not need this right now. "He's headed to the rental place to get the car. It'll likely be too late by the time he gets back to leave… We'll stay the night… leave first thing in the morning."

"For Paris?" she asked.

Duncan nodded. "For Paris."

****

St. Louis, MO

The words of the two male voices gradually crystallized in Katya's muddled brain.

"You shouldn't have reduced the dosage," said one.

"I've watched this bitch for five years. Before they come to collect her… I'm gonna have her at least once… and I want her to know it… know that she is powerless. Besides… she'll still be so drugged she'll only barely be aware."

Katya could feel a hand sliding up and down her bare leg. She fought to keep her face slack… as if totally unaware of what was happening.

The first voice continued, "Fine… take her… but maybe you should have left those restraints on."

Laughter from the second as another hand rubbed over her breasts. "I want her to struggle… I like it when they struggle."

"Well I'll be down the hall," the first voice said and Katya heard a door open and close. She remained totally relaxed even as she felt the man spread her legs apart and climb onto her laughing. She could sense his face close to her… his breath hot on her face.

Without warning Katya reached up and snapped his neck. The man collapsed on top of her. She shoved him off with a hateful glance and sat up to look around.

She was in a windowless room… perhaps the basement of a house as she saw the concrete block walls on two sides. A single light bulb hung from the wooden beams above. The gurney she was on was the only furniture in the room. An IV was still in her arm. Angrily she pulled it out.

Swinging her legs off… she stumbled when her bare feet hit the concrete floor. She was dressed only in a hospital gown. Ripping it off… she knelt and quickly pulled her attacker's pants and shirt off of his corpse and donned them. She saw nothing in the room she could use as a weapon.

Cautiously she opened the wooden door and peered into the hallway. Seeing no one… she started toward the rickety wooden stairs she saw at one end.

She'd barely gone three yards before she felt another immortal. Katya paused by another door. The door opened and a man looking back at a figure on another gurney appeared… he turned and seeing Katya exclaimed, "Oh shit!" They were the last words he ever spoke. Katya snapped his neck as well and then entered the second room.

The young woman on the gurney was still drugged. Curled in fetal position, her long honeyed hair splayed about her face, she slept as though dead. She was immortal, however. Katya reached over and pulled the IV from the woman's arm, wondering how long before she'd awaken.

This room had a table and two chairs in it as well as the metal gurney. Katya crossed to them and ripped two legs from the table to use as weapons. Behind her the other immortal began to stir.

"What? What?" she slurred as she came out of her stupor. Then, evidently sensing Katya's presence she looked about startled.

"I'm no threat to you. My name is Katya."

The woman focused blearily on Katya's voice and nodded thoughtfully.

"If you can stand… we need to get moving. I don't know how many more may be upstairs." Katya pulled the corpse of the second man into the room and began stripping off his clothes for the other woman.

"How did we get here? Who _is_ that?" the girl murmured as she dressed.

"I'm not certain. I was in the elevator at my apartment building the last I recall. The doors to my floor opened and something hit me." She handed one of the table legs to her companion.

"I was crossing through the park. I'd been to the jazz festival by the river. I think I was shot."

"Do you have a name?" Katya asked.

The young woman looked at her carefully. "In this life you can call me Amber."

"Then Amber… let's get the hell out of here." Katya started to the hall as Amber knelt by the man and began examining his wrists. "What are you looking for?"

"Watcher tattoos," murmured Amber.

"What?"

"Haven't you heard of the Watchers?" Amber smiled. When Katya shook her head, Amber continued. "Mortals who watch us and chronicle what we are. My teacher told me about them long ago. Most just watch… but a few have been known to kill our kind."

"You'll have to tell me all about it… but right now… we need to go." Katya indicated the stairs. Amber nodded as they carefully began their ascent.

Voices came from the other side of the wooden door… voices peppered with laughter. Two voices. Katya caught Amber's eyes and smiled holding up two fingers. Amber nodded as she hefted her table leg.

Katya silently mouthed the count, "Three, two, one" and opened the door. Both women raced through… surprising the two men sitting at the table drinking coffee. They clubbed them both unconscious, Katya then snapped their necks for good measure.

At Amber's odd look, Katya explained. "No sense in leaving them alive to raise an alarm." Amber nodded silently.

Searching the inside of the old house, they found their swords and clothes. Grabbing their shoes, coats and weapons, and bundling their clothes under their arms… the immortals slipped out of the house, through the large wooded yard… and raced down an alleyway.

"Should we separate or stay together," Amber asked breathlessly.

"I'd say together for the moment. I need to contact some friends and see what's happening." Katya said. "We need to find out who these people are and how widespread this is."

"Not to mention what they want with us."

Katya laughed harshly, "Yes… there is that. Somehow I think there may be more going on here than someone just wanting to keep us as unwilling victims. Let's move. We need to boost a car… but not in this neighborhood."

Amber nodded her agreement as the two immortals moved onto the sidewalk of the old St. Louis neighborhood and hurried quickly out of the area.


	43. Chapter 41

Author's Note: _I'm loading a second chapter for readers today. Hope you get the chance to read and enjoy both. Let me know what you think... I live for feedback! --_elle

**Chapter 41**

**Paris**

Derrick scratched at his bandaged arm. It burned and was hurting again.

"Don't do that." Ellie stirred her salad and eyed him across the table. "Leave it alone Derrick… you'll tear the stitches loose."

"It hurts."

"I know that." She laid her fork down to regard him seriously. "I am so sorry about hurting you. You cannot believe how badly I feel about it. But stop scratching at it. You'll only make it worse."

Derrick slouched in the chair at the outdoor cafe and picked at his sandwich with his left hand… his uninjured arm. After Ellie had sewn his arm up and properly bandaged it, she'd let him rest for a bit before insisting they get out of the grove for a while.

"Some fresh air and a proper meal," she'd said with a teasing smile. "I sometimes forget about those things."

"What was going on with you," he'd asked as they'd re-hidden the key in the church and headed down the street. "You had me worried… Other than the night before we left home… I've never seen you like that."

Ellie shrugged, "I was dreaming Derrick. For a moment I was with Adam… I truly was. For the first time since he left… I truly was, and then I heard you… felt you and I just lashed out. I am truly sorry. I didn't clearly know it was you… it was all so very confusing at the moment. I kept sensing some great danger."

"From me?"

She'd shaken her head then. "No… not from you… but from someone with him. As I said… it was all very confusing."

"So do you know where he is now?"

Her shoulders had sagged with dejection. "No," she whispered… "It was just for a moment and it was so surprising… I don't think either of us was actively searching for the other… we just somehow touched for a moment… and then it was gone."

Now… sitting over the meal, Derrick found he was no longer hungry… nor was he happy to be out on the street. He had that feeling he'd often had when younger… that someone was watching him… someone who would harm him if he could. He began staring around them at the faces of those in the area… his gaze finally landing on a man across the street… staring at them.

"Don't stare at him," Ellie murmured.

"But who is he?"

"I don't know. He walked by some time ago, sensed me, crossed the street and has been staring at us for some time," she said casually as she ate another bite of her salad.

Derrick looked once more at the man and then looked away. The man had been staring right at him. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"I know." Ellie pushed her salad away and signaled for the waitress. After paying the check, the two left the cafe and sauntered casually down the street… far more casually than either of them likely felt. Ellie slipped an arm into his and held him tightly.

"You will stay out of this, Derrick. If it comes to a challenge, do nothing. I have to be able to concentrate."

Derrick nodded. "I understand… but are you certain I can't help in some way?"

"No," Ellie glared at him and then shook her head. "Stay back out of the way." She turned into the gardens heading for the maze where they'd be out of sight of any passing mortals. A glance behind them showed Derrick that the strange immortal was definitely following them. Again he met Derrick's gaze with a dark glare. Derrick swallowed and looked away.

"He thinks it's me he feels… He's looking at me."

"He doesn't feel you Derrick. You're not immortal. He's looking at you because you keep turning to stare at him. Now stop that. I can sense where he is… I'll deal with him." Ellie's tone was harsh. There was a dark tone in her voice that Derrick had never before heard.

Once within the maze she pushed Derrick behind her and waited. He could see her stretching and limbering up. When he'd been very small… he'd seen this behavior in her… and had never understood. Although when he'd been small… she usually had kept going… seldom stopping to meet the other immortals they encountered… passing swiftly by as if running from them was all there was. Ellie wasn't running this time… Derrick stood quietly where she indicated and waited.

-----

Byron Delano had been ready to move on. Indeed… he should have left Paris before this… but something… perhaps his hopes at finding the immortal whose presence had tickled at his and drawn him to the French capitol… whose feel was compelling in its intensity, had kept him here. Then he'd sensed the other.

Passing that cafe he'd almost staggered at the strength and nearness of that other presence. Crossing the street… he'd waited… watching the patrons and attempting to figure out who it was. If he waited long enough… he'd figure it out. Then a tall young man had finally looked at him… stared at him momentarily. Bingo… that had to be him. Oddly… Byron noticed the young man's right arm appeared bandaged and wondered if it was some sort of camouflage… an attempt to seem mortal. He waited. He wanted to meet this immortal.

When the young man and his female companion left… Byron followed. He did not care if they knew he was here. He closed in… determined to meet him… talk to him. When they turned in to the gardens… Delano smiled. They were willing to meet with him… just out of sight of passing mortals. He sped up.

Turning into the maze, Delano pulled up short and stared. The female was regarding him darkly. Suddenly it was clear hers was the presence he felt… she was the immortal. And yet…? His eyes traveled over to the young man behind her.

Delano bowed and gave his name. He waited. She said nothing. Thinking perhaps she wanted to speak more privately… after all… there were still others about… he approached more closely… his hand on the hilt of his sword… just in case.

What happened next, he was not entirely clear about. She moved swiftly… more swiftly than normal and with a strength he couldn't have believed so small a creature could have. Delano found himself on his back… a knife poised across his throat… just barely piercing the skin. She straddled him and fumbled for his sword… handing it off to the young man.

"Move and I'll slice. Maybe not enough to take your head… but it'll scar you forever," her voice hissed at him. He noted a strange flash of green in her eyes. Delano nodded his understanding. "I don't like being followed. I never have. You will find someone else… or you will die. Do you understand me? You are a child… and I am older than you can imagine."

Delano swallowed noting how dry his mouth was. "I understand," he finally got out.

She smiled. "Now then… Do you know the fountain at the west entrance?" When he nodded, she shifted the knife down lower and pushed it slowly under his ribs towards his heart. "You will find your sword there when you re-cover. Bother me again… ever… and you will die… permanently." Darkness took him and he surrendered to its black embrace.

-----

As they walked away, Ellie reclaimed the sword from a confused Derrick. "What was that about?"

"I gave him another chance. Now hurry!" She sped towards the fountain, looked about and then thrust it into the water near the retaining wall where it would not be easily seen.

"Is that safe?"

"I don't know. But he didn't seem evil so much as just interested. I couldn't leave it with him… but with dangers about… I didn't want to leave him defenseless."

"What was that business about being older than he could imagine?"

Ellie smiled at him and shrugged one shoulder as if teasing. "Oh… that… Did it sound good? Did it sound convincing? I just wanted him properly frightened."

Derrick rubbed at his throbbing arm. "Can we go now?"

"I have to be certain no one is following… but yes, baby… We can go now."

"I'm not a baby," mumbled Derrick as she took his left arm and hurried him along. "I'm eighteen and I can fight. Even Adam said…"

"Adam is not here. And I say… you will stay out of this and all future encounters, Derrick. I will not lose you… not yet."

Derrick said nothing further. To argue with her was useless. He'd always known that. He wondered where the darkness that seemed to linger about her had come from… and why the warm spring day suddenly felt cold and dreary. Yet he was perspiring from the exertion of keeping up with her… and his arm was burning… throbbing. He felt sick… and he hadn't felt sick in a very long time.

-----

Delano awoke with a start. He gasped a tortured breath and glanced around him. Evidently no one had noticed his body lying amidst the hedge maze. Relieved he struggled to his feet and breathed heavily. Running a hand along his undamaged throat he shivered.

Whoever the immortal had been… whatever she was… he didn't want to tangle with her again. And yet… even now… he felt drawn to follow her… and the boy. There was something tantalizing about them… about the presence that surrounded them. When she'd sat on him… even when she'd killed him… he'd sensed mainly that whatever she asked of him… he'd gladly give… even his life. And the boy…? There was something… but Delano wasn't certain what it was. But he intended to find out.

Approaching the fountain he felt about it and finally located his blade. Removing it from the water he grinned at the little girl staring at him. "Hide and seek," he explained, "just a little game among friends." Replacing the sword in his coat… he left the park and wondered which way to go.

-----

Behind him, Melanie Pryor watched with wonder. She'd figured Delano was dead in that encounter and hadn't clearly gotten a look at the female immortal. But he lived. Well… it was pretty public. Perhaps the female knew this didn't seem to be a good time or a good place.

Melanie had been assigned to Delano six years ago. The Watchers in Europe had been undergoing some sort of shakeup and her request for a European assignment had finally gone through. This time though… instead of being an immortal's secretary as she had been for Cassandra in New York… she simply followed.

Byron Delano was small potatoes. He had mainly remained in England, Scotland and Ireland, and rarely came to the continent. That he had come here, suddenly and without warning, was out of character for him. So too was his behavior in Paris. He acted like a man possessed… searching for something. He'd kept on the move the entire time and Melanie had not really had a chance to stop and rest for fear of losing him.

She had not even had the chance to file a report on his activities with the Paris office. She'd waited as she felt Delano would return any moment to England… and she could file a report there. Now… with his misadventure with another immortal, Melanie wondered if she should report in to someone. Surely whoever was following the woman would report on Delano's run-in with her. Melanie had not noticed another Watcher in the area… but surely there was one.

Desperately she tried to think of a Paris contact. Finally she did remember one… an old one… but surely he could put her in touch with someone current. Now if Delano would just check into a hotel or settle down somewhere so she could take the time to check in or get some backup. Wearily Melanie continued to follow her immortal wondering just why he was suddenly, after so many sedate years… so agitated… and so on the move.

-----

****

Lithuania

Thankfully, Reagan Cole and Warren Green had made it as far as Lithuania without any indication they'd been followed. Stopping at a roadside restaurant, they'd decided to stretch their legs and eat a meal before moving on. Reagan had first gassed the car in case they needed to leave suddenly and then had joined the young Watcher at a table in the restaurant.

"I don't speak Lithuanian," he whispered as he leaned over the table toward her. "Nor read it either… what's on the menu?"

Reagan chuckled. "I'll do the ordering. What languages do you speak?"

Warren slumped back. "English, Russian obviously, a bit of French and a bit of Spanish."

"However were you managing?"

"Well… they needed someone who spoke Russian when you moved to Moscow a few years back… and I did. The plan was if you moved on… someone else would pick up on you."

"But I didn't move on."

"No," Warren's face flushed slightly. "And I liked that. I got to stay with you longer than anyone had initially planned. And now… I actually get to talk to you."

Reagan felt another immortal nearby and looked up, her eyes surveying the room. She did not need this. If the other had a Watcher… Warren's obvious betrayal of his Watcher oath would likely be passed along to superiors and his death would be a foregone conclusion.

Her eyes met those of Steven Keane. She shook her head slightly hoping he understood not to approach. Steven nodded and continued to look around… finally heading to the hallway where the restrooms were located. Reagan leaned across the table to Warren. "I'm going to the ladies room. Two minutes after I leave… go to the car and wait for me. I'll join you in a few minutes. If I don't… get out of here… and don't look back."

"What? We're not eating?" Warren looked at her with confusion.

"Not here. Not now." Reagan rose and headed without further comment to the restrooms.

In the hallway… she noted the man casually leaning against the wall and reading a newspaper. Reagan passed him by… then turned and grabbed him… dragging him into the men's room.

"Hey what the f…" the man yelled.

Once inside the men's room she slammed him against the wall. Steven moved to stand beside her and help restrain the man. Reagan checked his wrists… she smiled.

"Watcher tattoo… you've been in a while."

The man's eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. "You're not supposed to know about us."

"Yeah… yeah… I get that all the time," she smirked… hoping to make him think this was old news. "Didn't you see him following you?" she asked Steven.

"Of course," he said… but she could see the questions in his eyes.

Reagan pulled back and knocked the man out. "Anyone else in here?" she asked Steven. When he shook his head… she indicated he should help her drag the man into one of the stalls.

"What's going on?" Steven Keane asked. "What's a Watcher?"

"I just learned about them." Swiftly she told him what she had recently learned. "I need to get out of here with mine right now, what you do with yours is up to you."

"You think some are dangerous and some are not?"

"Yeah… I do." Reagan headed for the door.

"So this means we don't renew our acquaintance?"

Reagan turned back and grinned knowingly. "Sorry… not this time… maybe later."

As she headed out the door she heard Steven murmur, "I look forward to it." In the hallway she met an old man about to enter. He stared at her… apparently confused as he read the sign on the door. Reagan pulled out a mint and popped it into her mouth with a shrug. "He's still busy in there… you might give them a few more minutes." Winking… she sauntered out of the restaurant toward their car. Climbing into the passenger's side, she slumped down in the seat. "You drive for a while."

"Where to?"

"South… then we'll head west… I have friends in Paris." With that… she withdrew a ball-cap from her pocket and pulled it low over her eyes. Reagan needed time to think… and she needed to plan what to do next.


	44. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Rome

Alisaunne fairly flew into Ian's arms when he finally arrived back at their room several hours later.

"Hi… did you miss me?" he teased as she hugged him.

"Were you followed?" Duncan spoke up from the far side of the room.

"No… I drove all about Rome and then gassed up before returning here. The car's in the parking garage. When do we go?"

"In the morning. Get some sleep." Duncan focused once more on his laptop.

"Do you even want to know who it was?"

"Does it matter?" Duncan's clipped tone spoke volumes to Ian about his disappointment that someone might have picked up on them after all their diversions. "You should have avoided a fight at all costs. Now a body was found, the authorities are involved… and there were witnesses. A description of you is on all the local stations."

"I want to know." Alisaunne lay her head on Ian's shoulder.

He held her closely and grinned. "You will… very soon." He gazed soberly at Duncan. "It couldn't be avoided. I did the best I could… and I did change clothes and do what I could to change my appearance. I didn't seek him out." Ian felt older… more experienced… not so much the boy immortal he appeared to be.

Duncan nodded "Still… you'll need to stay out of sight for the foreseeable future. Interpol likely has a full description."

Ian nodded. "We could leave now…"

"This time of night?" Duncan laughed. "I don't think so… It would likely cause someone to remember us… as would just vanishing. No… we check out as scheduled in the morning. They'll only see me at checkout. Now get some sleep."

Alisaunne pulled him into the bedroom… and Ian went eagerly. He thought he might just have some new things to show her.

-----

Alisaunne awakened… startled. She'd had the dream again… but it had been different this time. For the first time since she'd started having it… the night she'd become immortal… it wasn't the rape… it was something else.

Breathing fast and shallow she felt a sheen of perspiration over her. Beside her… Ian had fallen asleep. He'd been very forceful tonight… and she'd surrendered to his needs. Even now… she could smile at the way he'd made her feel. Perhaps that was the reason the dream had changed. Quietly she rose, grabbing her robe. She wanted something to drink and she thought there was some water in the suite mini-bar in the main room. Opening the door she was halfway across the room before it dawned on her Duncan was still sitting at the table… staring at his laptop.

She stopped and looked up at him… hurriedly tying her robe about her. "Sorry," she murmured nervously, then pulled a bottle of water out of the small icebox. Opening it she swallowed half of it and then turned to stare at him. "I had the dream again…. only… it's changed."

Duncan shifted position in the chair, obviously concerned. "Changed? How?"

Alisaunne sat on the arm of the sofa and shook her head. "It was still him… but it wasn't the rape. It was more like… oh I don't know…" She ran one hand through her tangled dark hair. "A seduction." she finally said.

Duncan's brow furrowed. "How so?"

I could sense him… smell him… but he was behind me… whispering in my ear. Oh I can't recall what he said… but I found a knife in my hands… and I was contemplating using it… and I wanted to use it." Alisaunne's haunted gaze pierced Duncan's soul. "Where is he Duncan? I have to face him. If I don't… he will haunt me forever."

Duncan turned away. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not? What more could he do to me? You say he's dead… that only some part of him remains in the immortal who killed him… took his quickening. What could be so bad about my seeing him? If I saw him… then maybe I'd believe that the monster is dead."

"Alisaunne… he was very old and very strong. You've already felt what can happen when you play the game. You've surely felt the changes in you… even the ones that fade. You likely noticed changes in Ian tonight as well. For the immortal who killed Nestor… it was the same… only more so. He can't hurt you… no one will allow that… Now let it be. Just continue telling me of the dreams… that way… I'll be able to help you."

"And if you're gone?"

"Things have changed." He indicated his PPC. "I got an email from an old friend in America. Something is definitely going on with the Watchers."

"We knew that!" she spat.

"Only it seems it's far more insidious than I thought. I have a friend in Paris. I'll drop by to see him when we head there in the morning. I'll talk to him."

Ian opened the door and leaned against the doorjamb. "I thought you wanted us to get some sleep." He rubbed a hand through his still black hair and grinned at Alisaunne.

Duncan shut down his laptop. "You're right. It's late." Rising he entered the other bedroom and shut the door.

Ian leered at Alisaunne as she approached him… her mouth slightly open. She ran her hands over his chest. "Again?" he asked.

She grinned. "Most definitely." She leaped up… wrapping her long legs about him as she nibbled at his lips and ears.

He stumbled slightly and then hungrily kissed her while backing into their room and to the bed. Falling on it… he tore away her robe and let his mouth and his tongue range over her arcing and responsive body. Desire had overtaken them both. She was his… he was hers… and no one and nothing else mattered.

-----

After arriving in Rome, Avril Mischkov and his retrieval squad met quietly with Arthur Kidman. Mischkov showed him a file. "Is this the immortal?"

Kidman glanced at at the photo, then shook his head. "Maybe. He fits the general description the old couple gave. I didn't get there in time to see his face. Who is he?"

"Duncan MacLeod. Rawlins wants him brought in at all costs." Mischkov reclaimed the folder. "He's likely traveling with a young woman and a boy." He pulled out a list of names. "Here are some aliases we believe he's used in the past. Start calling hotels."

Kidman nodded as he read down the list of names. The second page was a list of better hotels. "I'll get started," he murmured and turned away to begin phoning.

Mischkov stared at him darkly. "You do that." Pulling out a second list… Mischkov began with the list of medium-range hotels. His people had been on it for the past few hours… but let Kidman think he was helping. The fool had been too far away and MacLeod had vanished again. But he was here… Mischkov was certain of it… and with a little luck… they'd get a lead on his whereabouts. "_Pronto_," he said to the hotel switchboard… and began his inquiry.

-----

****

St. Louis

Amber turned off the hot water and exited the steaming shower. Wrapping a towel about her she wiped off a spot on the mirror and stared at her bedraggled appearance. They'd kept moving most of the afternoon… checking into this fleabag motel only in the last hour. Amber was tired… and she felt that there were still some of the drugs in her system.

Her teacher would never have approved of Amber's tagging along with this woman she didn't know. But Connor MacLeod was long dead… and Amber Kathleen Conroy was still here… still alive… still immortal. At the gentle knock she pulled back from the mirror.

"It's open," she said.

Katya opened the door. "If you're about done… I'd like to clean up myself. I managed to send a message to an old friend of mine about what happened. He's going to look into things."

"So what do we do?"

Katya began pulling off the men's clothes she still wore. "Stay out of sight. Keep a low profile. I have a feeling our pictures may very well end up on police blotters."

Amber laughed. "Then it's hair cuts and dye jobs… right?"

Katya nodded soberly and turned the water on in the shower. As the steam rose once more, Amber stepped out into the hotel room, closing the door behind her. She shivered in the cooler temperature… and began to dry her hair.

-----

****

Washington, D.C.

Special agent Matthew McCormick of the FBI stared at the reports crossing his desk. He'd made a name for himself in the bureau as one who investigated unusual cases… ones that seemed a little on the outside of the norm. He'd had many a good laugh though, over the years, at the popularity of the **X-Files**. The cases he spent time on… were strange… but definitely not that strange. His main concern was keeping an eye out for beheadings.

It was with some surprise he found that someone had sent him a file on his computer that had nothing to do with beheadings… but with the deaths of four men in a St. Louis suburb. It was only when he stared at the autopsy photos and saw the tattoo on the wrist of one of the men and the almost identical cuts made on the left thighs of all four… that he began to get really interested. The tattoo he'd seen before. He sank back in his chair, staring at the symbol…

-----

New Orleans, 1903

Matthew McCormick, policeman squatted before the three bodies in the squalid cabin and held one hand over his mouth. "How many days do you think?" he asked Doc Lebeau… the police mortician.

"Wall… hard to say lieutenant… mebbe two, tree day." The old Cajun doctor's slow drawl reminded Matthew of the people of a previous century. "Thisa here is interestin'." He held up the arm of one man. "Strange tattoo. Strange place for it… inside de wrist."

Matthew stared at the symbol… a strange "V" shape surrounded by a circle. He'd never seen such a thing before. This man had been stabbed… but not beheaded as the other two had been. Already from the looks of the scorch marks, Matthew had known at least one of the men had been an immortal… and likely both… but this one was mortal.

"Likely nothin'," he'd muttered as he'd made a rough sketch of the symbol in his notebook. "Now these beheadin's… this is interestin'."

-----

****

Washington DC

Matthew had never found the immortal who'd killed those others. His investigations at the time had been limited to who the dead were in that life… not who they might really have been. And the mortal had not interested him at all.

Now here was another dead man… with the same tattoo in the same place.

Matt knew by morning he'd be in St. Louis… but first… a little on-line research was called for. He wanted to know more about the symbol that tattoo represented.

-----------

**Author's Note**: Katya (_Justina Vail_) appeared in the Sixth Season episode _Justice_. Matt MacCormick (_Eric MacCormack_, later of **_Will & Grace_** fame) was from the Fifth Season Episode Manhunt. Amber Conroy is an original character who also made an appearance in my AU story _The Haunting (a.k.a. Child's Play)_ .


	45. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Paris

Once they had returned to the grove, Eleanor discovered that Derrick was running a slight fever. She had checked his arm and while red and a bit swollen… it did not seem to be infected… But she wasn't taking any chances! She ducked back out while he rested and obtained some over the counter antibiotics, ointment and other supplies. _I should never have brought him along!_ she kept thinking. Her fear for him and what might happen to him was preying on her mind, as well as her guilt at having hurt him.

Once back in the upper room she soaked and cleansed his arm, applying fresh ointment and new bandages. She stood over him while he took the antibiotics and one additional pain pill.

When he finally settled down to sleep… she curled up in the wooden chair and gazed out over the cityscape she had known so well for most of her immortal life. She'd seen it grow and change over the centuries. From this window she'd seen the tapestry of life passing by. She'd seen battles, occupations, parades of triumph, and celebrations of life… and love. For eight hundred years… she'd felt at home in this place as she never had anywhere else. But her life was no longer here. And remaining here would not help her find the answers she needed.

Eleanor lay her cheek on her upraised knees and tried to sense anything of Methos. "_I'll be back_," he'd promised her. "_I may swing by Geneva and retrieve Darius' letters to us._" Eleanor raised her head and stared thoughtfully into the night.

-----

By morning, Derrick felt somewhat better. His head no longer felt swabbed in hot cotton, nor did his arm feel as though there was a throbbing fire within it. Stretching in the narrow, uncomfortable bed he stared around at the empty room. Hearing movement in the other room, he rose to see what Ellie was up to.

When he opened the door, she grinned at him as she unpacked several sacks of food. He also saw a stack of used books and computer disks on the wooden table. "Looks like you stocked up… as if we'll be here a while," the boy mumbled. He crossed slowly to the table.

"Oh… just making certain you have plenty to eat and things to occupy you for a few days." She hummed a bit as she put the food away.

Derrick sorted through the books and then stared out the window. "You're leaving me here."

Ellie was suddenly silent. Finally she spoke up. "Yes, I should never have brought you along. I want you safe… and you will be safe, here."

He turned to face her… tears stinging in his eyes.

She smiled and came toward him. "I won't be but a few days… last night I thought of something Adam said before he left us… a place he mentioned. I'm going there. It won't take long. I'll be back. Besides, Joe won't know anything for a few days. Rather than just wait here, I'll go, check this out, then come straight back."

"No!" The word ripped from Derrick's soul and he collapsed onto the wooden floor with a moan. He buried his head in his good hand and rocked back and forth. "Don't leave me here! I hate it here! Please!" He stared up at, seeing the pain he was causing her mirrored in her expression. "Don't leave me here Ellie… I can't bear it… please don't leave me!"

Ellie knelt by the boy and ran her fingers through his shaggy sandy hair and gazed into blue eyes that spoke only of pain, loneliness, and fear. "It's only for a few days, I promise."

Throwing his good arm around her, Derrick buried his face in her chest. "Don't leave me here. I want to go with you."

Ellie let him sob a few moments then pushed him back with a smile. "You should be able to hook the computer up. I found some old games you can play on it if you get bored. The books are good ones. We could talk about them when I get back. Now I have to go." She lay a hand along the side of his face, kissed his brow and rose as she pulled her already packed bag onto her shoulder. She paused at the door, "Keep an eye out for Joe. If he stops by… tell him I'll be back in a day or two."

"No… Eleanor… please," Derrick sobbed from the floor. "I'd miss you too much."

Startled by his words and the change in his voice, Eleanor turned and stared at him. Her mouth worked up and down several times before words actually issued forth. "You'll be safe here."

Derrick looked up at her, tears streaking down his cheeks. "But I wouldn't be with you. You promised not to leave me… you promised. How will you get where you're going? You need me to drive. Please… I'm afraid to stay here. Don't make me! I promise to do whatever you ask. Just don't leave me behind Eleanor… not this time."

The backpack slipped from Eleanor's shoulders as she regarded him somberly. Finally she sighed and with a small smile agreed. "All right. But you will do _what_ I say… _when_ I say it."

-----

Joe's luncheon with Pierre Gautier, Marie Chezlon, Therese Comblanc, and Michel LeClare had gone better than he expected. His old Watcher friends were as suspicious and as angry as he was at the changes they had noticed within the organization to which they had given their lives.

"I stopped by the library last week… to look up old friends… There were none there I knew. Only young people far too busy to speak with me," Marie complained.

Therese nodded in understanding. "I wanted to know how my immortal was doing. But no one was willing to tell me anything. Not even if she were alive or dead." She threw up her hands.

"We should never have retired," Michel snorted.

""No?" Pierre had laughed. "But unlike those we Watch… we are not immortal. We grow old… Should we have died on the job?"

"But what if things are going on there that shouldn't?" Joe had cautiously offered. He did not want to expose his thoughts and concerns until he was certain his friends were of like mind.

Pierre had nodded. "These young ones… They do not even bear the mark of our order with pride. Everything is so hush-hush these days."

"And I worry they are not just watching," Marie offered quietly. "There is a sense about those I've seen that they are _involved_ somehow."

Therese smiled as she sipped her tea, "Ah… but Joseph was often involved in the life of his… or so I heard."

Joe grinned, "What have you heard?" Then he leaned forward to listen and to offer comments where appropriate.

-----

Byron Delano had located the Land Rover by accident. Once certain it was the same one… he'd found an observation post on the roof of a nearby building. He was far enough away not to be noticed, if she came back… and Byron wanted to see her again… and the boy. Oh… he told himself, he had no intention of bothering them… no… he just wanted to see them. Running a hand along his neck he was still amazed that the immortal hadn't sliced his throat open… But it might have been worth it. Even now he could almost hear her voice whispering in his ear, feel her touch as she'd rummaged in his coat for his sword, the enticing smell of her… almost like honey. And the boy… ? What was it about the boy?

So lost was he in his thoughts, that he nearly missed their return. If Delano hadn't heard a door slam and looked up at just the right moment… they'd have returned and gone. As it was… he had only the briefest glimpse of the immortal as she and the boy climbed into the Land Rover and pulled out. As he watched the vehicle vanish down the Paris street… Byron considered trying to follow once more. But he knew it was hopeless.

Rubbing his neck… he sank back onto the roof. Maybe they'd be back. And if they came back… maybe he could try to re-introduce himself again… either that… or watch their back for them. Byron lay against the extended wall of the roof… and waited. He wasn't going anywhere. At least… not far… and not for long.

-----

****

Niebos

Phillip, Amanda and Luke had sat up half the night discussing options and arrangements. While Nick, Valeraine, and Ursa needed to remain at the villa… Nick, because they could not trust him out among mortals, and the others to help care for him, Amanda thought it best if Luke and the children found other accommodations.

"Is there a house they could rent? Some place on the island which could accommodate them and offer some privacy?"

Phillip nodded. "There is an old farmhouse on the north shore. It's not in the best of shape… that's why it's empty. I just hadn't gotten around to fixing it up."

"Sounds perfect for us," Luke smiled. "We can be your tenants and fix it up some while we are there. But what of you my dear?"

Amanda shook her head. "Now that someone else who knows Nestor… really knows him… can watch him… You don't need me. I need to find MacLeod."

Phillip poured refills of the wine and nodded his agreement. "You must be careful though. You are well known to the Watchers… and this place is not."

"I won't tell. Besides… I'm not entirely certain where I am," She grinned impishly with a shrug. "Even once I leave… I won't know for certain what this place is."

"But you will be careful? Perhaps one of the lambs should go with you." Luke was clearly concerned. The attack on the convent had not set well with her.

Amanda laughed. "Luke… I am far better off alone. I was a thief for centuries. I know how to move in the shadows." She smirked and winked, "And… I can watch the Watchers. Maybe I can discover just what is going on with them. Besides… if I can find MacLeod… after killing him for vanishing on me… I can let him know you are all safe."

The three looked up as Denara entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "I'm thirsty," she said.

"I'll get you something." As Luke rose to fix the small one a glass of water, Amanda was struck once more by the confusion these children presented. Adults one moment… children the next… they truly were lost. Perhaps that is why Kenny went the way he did. Lost between the two realities of his existence… without anyone to truly guide him for so long… he'd become too much one… and not enough of the other… except as a means to an end.

"I leave tomorrow, Phillip," she murmured quietly, "Unless you need me to help settle Luke and the others in that farmhouse.

The Greek shook his head. "Let me try and email MacLeod and let him know you're looking for him… Perhaps I can set a meeting." He sighed, shaking his head, "I meant to message him earlier today, but I got distracted by our little field trip. He needs to know what happened at the convent and that we are safe." Phillip sat back running a hand through his brown hair. "I hesitate to put too much out there though. I don't know how secure email is sometimes." He met Amanda's gaze with a rueful look. "Maybe I'll just let him know you're looking for him."

Amanda nodded. "He doesn't know about this place… does he? And you don't want to chance the Watchers finding it?"

Phillip shook his head. "Besides the doctor and his family… none of us know. Although… I got the feeling this morning that Ursa may have known something."

"Ursa?" asked Luke returning to the table. "Well he certainly knew where we were headed today after you and the children left to climb the mountain. He didn't even wait for me to tell him where we going… He just scooped Nick into his arms and headed out."

Phillip nodded. "I don't know why yet… and I don't ever recall him being here… but then… I was not always here… and the Oracle was here long before I came to these shores."

"Do you think we will ever find out what goes on his mind?" Amanda asked.

Phillip smiled. "Perhaps… if the gods wish it."

Luke snorted, "And what gods would that be?"

Amanda leaned forward, elbows on the table and picked up her wineglass thoughtfully. "The gods of light and darkness… the gods of creation and destruction… and of life… and death." She took a drink.

Luke gazed at her solemnly. "And what if they no longer exist… these old gods?"

Phillip threw back his head and roared. "Then we are… royally screwed!"


	46. Chapter 44

Author's Note: _This is a short extra chapter for today._ --elle

-------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 44**

**Southern France**

Their exit from Rome had gone far more smoothly than Duncan could have hoped. The Highlander had charmed and tipped his way through the sign-out procedure and joined the other two at the car. "Drive!" he'd said sharply once getting in, "and don't stop until I tell you to." So Ian had driven.

Several hours later, they'd pulled off to the side of the road and switched positions. Pulling into a service station shortly after that, Duncan had gassed up again and driven on. As they'd approached the border, he'd told Ian to get into the back seat and lie down… and cover his face. They'd had no problems. Ian eventually took the opportunity to catch some shut-eye.

"How long to Paris?" Alisaunne had asked once she started seeing signs in French.

"A few hours yet. When I was young… this trip took days… if not weeks." He'd grinned at the memory of some of the stops he'd made… and the lasses he'd met at many an inn along the way. "Travel was long, arduous, and very interesting."

Alisaunne had chuckled. "And here I was thinking how much I was enjoying this trip… Not too fast and not too slow."

"Ah… a truly modern woman," Duncan said with a teasing smile and a wink. Alisaunne nodded thoughtfully and glanced at the back seat and Ian's sleeping form.

"Or maybe an old-fashioned one… trapped in a modern life," she said with an audible sigh.

Duncan had chuckled. The air between them no longer seemed charged with electricity. Perhaps speaking the unspeakable and facing it had done both of them some good. When they passed a road-sign that said Cannes… Duncan smiled.

"Who was she?" Alisaunne asked.

"Oh… just a lovely lass I met one night and never saw again."

"Were there a lot of them?"

"More than I'd like to admit. But only a handful I ever truly loved." Duncan smiled at the memories. "Did I ever tell you about Tessa?"

Alisaunne shook her head.

"She was mortal."

"And now she's dead."

Duncan nodded. "They're all dead. All but Amanda."

"And she's one of us."

Duncan nodded. "Yes," he said softly.

"And that worries you. You fear to be with her… You fear she'll kill you or you'll kill her?"

Duncan nodded once more.

Alisaunne glanced back at Ian's sleeping form, a warm smile on her face. "But sometimes… don't you have to just make a leap of faith… let down your guard and trust someone?"

Duncan chuckled, "Aye… that's the hard part. Trusting someone not only with what you are… but with your life… and your heart. I have loved Amanda for years… but every time we try… one of us runs."

"I'm not running."

Duncan glanced over at her sharply.

But she was still gazing back at Ian. "Wherever Ian Daffyd goes… there I go."

Duncan nodded once more and focused on the road… letting his memories of Amanda and Tessa, and all the other faces of his past… keep him company.

-----

****

Rome

"Got 'em!" Arthur Kidman looked over at Mischkov with a smile. "A trio matching the descriptions were at the _Hotel Minerva_."

Mischkov sat forward and glared, "Were?"

Kidman held hp one hand, "_Si… Grazie_!" Kidman hung up the phone. "They checked out this morning. All very low-key… no hurry… no fuss."

"Any idea where they went?"

Kidman shook his head.

"What alias were they using?"

"Patel I believe. It was an Indian couple and their son. The wife and son were only seen briefly during the check-in."

"Security tapes?"

Kidman smiled. "I hope you have deep pockets."

Avril Mischkov grinned, "Deep… oh yes… deep enough to allay the dreams of avarice."

-----

****

Berlin

Reagan Cole and Warren Green checked quietly into a mid-range hotel in downtown Berlin.

"We need to sleep… and I need to do some reconnaissance." Reagan told him as they fell into the kingsize bed. "Sleep first," she murmured as she slipped a gun under her pillow. Warren nodded and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. Eventually… even he slept.

-----

When he awoke… it was already dark. Reagan had opened the drapes slightly and was gazing out at the night. "Good… you're awake. I'm headed out… stay in the room and don't open the door for anyone… except me."

"Why don't I come with you?" Warren was worried. "Shouldn't we stay together?"

"Because my dear Watcher… I can move more freely if it's just me… and I won't have to worry about you. Now stay here." Reagan crossed the room and opened the door. "And put the security bolt on!" she snapped at him as she left. Warren did so… then sat dejectedly on the bed. He was awake now… so he fumbled for the remote… and started flipping through channels to find something to watch.

He didn't regret his decision to warn her… he'd gotten the feeling lately that she was being watched by eyes other than his… and after what had happened to Mallory and her immortal, Warren hadn't felt like he had a choice. Still… this wasn't quite what he'd thought would happen. He'd thought Reagan would just vanish and he'd have to explain to his superiors why he'd lost her… he hadn't dreamed she'd drag him along. But she had… and while thrilling and exciting… Warren Green also thought his lifeline might just have been shortened… a lot. Still… for the chance to really know her… it was worth it.

-----

Reagan bought a coffee at the all-night coffee and internet cafe and settled down at one of the terminals. After checking her several email accounts and coming up empty… she began sending messages to friends whose addresses she knew. She needed to find out what others knew… and what they were doing. Once finished… she logged off, grabbed her coffee, paid for her time and left to return to the hotel.

They'd stay until this evening. She wanted to check messages again before moving on. Perhaps the answers she received, if any, would determine her next course of action. She stopped at a deli to purchase sandwiches and drinks before returning to the hotel room. If she was lucky, she could get a few more hours of sleep before moving on.

---------------

Author's Note: Reagan Cole is a canon character from the Sixth Season Episode _Deadly Exposure_. Warren Green is an original character.


	47. Chapter 45

****

Chapter 45

Geneva

They'd reached Geneva in the early morning hours, having driven straight through without a stop. Derrick's cut arm still throbbed, but he'd refused any further pain medication other than some over-the-counter pills Ellie had purchased for him. The anti-biotics she still insisted he take.

"I don't want to take any more chances on an infection!" she'd said sternly… so he'd complied, but they made him feel nauseous.

Elllie had spent most of the drive quietly in the passenger seat… her eyes closed… her face growing ever paler. Derrick had never seen it so pale. It was as if her immortal essence was being drained away by her continual attempts to locate Methos. Absently she'd rub her head… and he was aware she seemed to be in pain… as if whatever effort his sister was putting forth was pushing her to dip into reserves of strength that for some reason were not being replenished. Derrick began to worry that the ultra-swift healing she'd experienced after the fire… might actually be causing this backlash and draining of her abilities. If so… Derrick wondered if he were to blame somehow.

Now, as the postal center opened, Ellie looked across at him and gave him a weak smile. "You will wait in the car… doors locked until I return. Do you understand?"

Derrick nodded and watched as she pulled on the red wig, adjusted it and the dark glasses before she left… crossing the street and climbing the wide stairs in the morning sunshine. He slumped down in the driver's seat… and waited. Absently he made his right hand into a loose fist… grimaced… and opened it back up.

At a tap on the window… Derrick looked up into the eyes of a young man whose blonde curls peaked out from his ballcap. His dark sunglasses hid his eyes. Sitting up, Derrick rubbed his eyes and lowered the window a crack, mindful of Ellie's instructions.

"My name's Keith," the young man said. "Will your friend be back in a moment?"

Derrick stared at him and then at the building. "I… guess so… Yeah!" What should he say? What was going on?

Keith turned his back to the window and leaned against the car. "There's been big doings here the past few days. I just want to warn her to be careful." His eyes scanned over the surroundings and the faces of the pedestrians. Derrick could tell the young man was clearly nervous.

Derrick stared at the post office and worried.

-----

Eleanor signed for her mail and for Methos'. She had the identity papers and the code phrases. From the amount they brought her… not a huge amount… but definitely several years worth… her heart sank. He'd not been here. Methos had never made it to Geneva. She'd dared to hope he had… and had left her a clue.

She accepted the pile of mail with a smile and crossed to a trash receptacle. Swiftly she pulled out anything that was obviously trash and tossed it. That left four envelopes in Methos' stack and two in hers.

One of Methos' was from Phillip and by the postmark… she knew it must contain both the letters she sought. The other three were older… to other names… from people she did not know.

Her two were another matter. They were from her granddaughter… at least that's how she always thought of Miriam's daughter, Esther. She opened them. The first one, dated nearly two years ago, spoke of Miriam's illness and death… an old woman surrounded by her children and grandchildren. She'd died peacefully and had wanted news of her passing sent to her "friend Marie". Eleanor smiled. Miriam had come to know and understand as she'd grown up, that Marie would not age or die… and that was why she must leave. But she'd stayed in touch, sending letters and updates to the box over the years. The second letter was just a brief note indicating that Esther had found some things among her mother's effects that she'd wanted her to have. Eleanor turned the envelope over in her hands curiously, wondering what Miriam could possibly have wanted her to have. In Miriam's spidery handwriting were the words "_For Marie_". Eleanor pulled three old black and white photos out and nearly cried.

Methos had taken them… he'd been in Israel posing as a photographer using his Noah Edwards identity when he'd happened by the settlement. He'd taken many pictures in the five months he'd been there… before he'd been killed in an outbreak of violence… and these three were among four he'd given Eleanor.

One was a close-up of Joshua, one of Miriam, and one of both of them. The fourth she had sent to Darius long ago and assumed that he'd burned it. That one had been of her and the children. She seldom allowed her photo to be taken… usually finding a way out of it… but this time she'd wanted to pose. She'd wanted Darius to see that they were all fine… that they'd made it safely to Palestine at last… now Israel… and that life was good… they were happy… and that she was banishing her ghosts.

Eleanor crushed the letters and photos to her chest and wept… She missed them all so much… and Methos most of all… Where was he? Aware suddenly that people were looking at her, she wiped her eyes beneath her dark glasses, gathered the mail and headed out of the facility. She had descended the steps when she felt the other and saw the young man lounging against the car. Immediately on guard she crossed the street and stood next to him.

"This is pretty public."

"Not here for your head… just felt you when you went in… Wanted to warn you… there's people about who must know about us."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes and grasped his arm. "What do you mean?"

"This really isn't the place to discuss what I saw," he said.

"Get in," Eleanor said darkly, motioning to Derrick to unlock the doors. When he did so… she climbed into the backseat after the other immortal and rammed a knife against his ribs. "Don't try anything," she warned him as he nodded his agreement. "Drive!" she told Derrick.

"Which way?"

"Back the way we came for the moment," she said and he drove off.

"Now what do you know and how do you know it?"

"My name's Keith Boyer. I met an immortal at a hostel near here about a week ago. We both decided to find other accommodations. I was a few blocks from here when I saw a quickening. I was curious as I wondered if it was him. It was. He was the victor… Then it got weird."

Eleanor withdrew the knife a bit. Thoughtfully she encouraged him to continue.

"Before the lightning died away… several vans filled with men showed up. They shot him several times before he recovered, then cleared away both bodies and his car and left. I didn't follow."

"Why warn us?" Eleanor's mind was racing… Who besides Methos might have been here? If it was him… but she _had_ felt a quickening that night… and the darkness that had swiftly followed…

"I hid out in a hotel room near here, curious as to what was going on. I set up my computer… and did some research. I found out there had been several abductions over the past few years following quickenings. Someone is watching us… and killing the victors… or at least immobilizing them."

Eleanor leaned back in the seat and stared ahead. "He's not dead."

"The one I saw… he was a friend of yours?"

"Describe him to me."

"Dark-haired, thin, a bit surly, didn't seem to want to talk. I got the feeling he didn't appreciate my even noticing him."

"English accent?"

Keith scratched his head. "Sorta… it kinda wandered a bit."

Eleanor grinned and nodded. "It does that sometimes. So why tell us?"

Keith shrugged. "I don't like being followed. I don't want to have to worry if I meet someone and take a head… that people will take me. I was looking for some help." He glanced at Derrick curiously. "He does know what you are doesn't he?"

Eleanor chuckled, "He knows. So… you want to travel with us do you?"

Keith shrugged. "For a while."

"What makes you think _I_ won't kill you?"

Keith sobered. "Those others? The mortals hunting us?"

Eleanor nodded. "Then perhaps I won't kill you… at least… not today." She sat back laughing lightly. Keith though it sounded a bit like tinkling bells.

"Why not today?" Keith asked.

Eleanor smiled at the memory, "Because it's Tuesday… my teacher once told me not to take heads on Tuesday."

"But it's not Tuesday," said Keith shaking his head, clearly confused.

"Oh… somewhere in the world… it must be Tuesday," Eleanor laughed as she closed her eyes… and for a moment… could almost feel Methos' presence… and his laughter joining her own.

-----

****

Paris

After twelve hours of Byron Delano not moving from his perch on that rooftop… Melanie Pryor decided to take the chance and look up the one contact in Paris she knew of. Surely he'd have some suggestions.

A bit more confidently than she truly felt… Melanie sauntered into _Le Blues B_ar and looked around, noticing the band practicing on the small stage and three groupies sitting at a table in front of them gushing a bit. The bearded man behind the bar gave her an odd look, then waved her over.

"Hi… and welcome. It's a bit early in the day… but can I help you?" He grinned and Melanie immediately felt at ease.

"I'm looking for Joe Dawson,"

"You found him. That's me!" He leaned on the bar. "Now why's a pretty young thing like you looking for me in the city of love?"

Melanie laughed and then looked around and leaned on the bar. "I'm a Watcher… Melanie Pryor… We spoke on the phone a number of years ago…" She offered her hand to his and shook it.

"Cassandra's Watcher… I remember!" Joe motioned for her to take a seat. "Coffee… or something stronger?"

"Actually… do you have any tea?" Melanie took a seat on one of the barstools. When she saw Dawson give her a hesitant look, she smiled. "Coffee's fine."

After pouring her a cup he said gently, "What can I do you for?"

Melanie sputtered into her cup. "It's been a while since I heard that line."

"Oh? Was it a line?" Beneath his white hair… his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Joe laughed a bit then leaned on the bar again. "So what brings a Watcher to my bar these days."

"I'm a bit out of my territory. My French is very basic and I don't have my files with me as this trip was a surprise… and I thought he'd go straight back but…"

"Whoa… whoa…" Joe laughed holding up his hands. "Now start at the beginning. Who's your assignment."

"Byron Delano."

"He mainly stays in England and Ireland. I don't think he's been on the continent since World War II… and then only because he was in an English unit."

Melanie nodded. "I transferred over here… but I didn't have a good background in foreign languages so they assigned me to Delano because he also liked to stay where only English was spoken."

"And he pulled a fast one and came over here." Joe shrugged. "Just follow him until he goes back, hon. He won't stay long."

"That's what I thought but it's been a week. He doesn't stay anywhere… he just keeps moving… I've been on the move after him for a week… not wanting to lose him… and I'm tired, and hungry and dirty, and… out of cash." There… she'd said it all.

Joe nodded. "Why didn't you call the hotline? They'd have helped."

"I didn't have my files with me with the numbers. This was all just so sudden on his part. He was headed north on business… a regular trip… then he suddenly turned and drove south into Paris. He spent the first few days running all over the city as if looking for someone… then he ran into a pair of immortals… lost the fight… but she didn't kill him. Well… not permanently. Now he's sitting atop a building near the _Rue Monge_ and hasn't moved in hours.

At the words _Rue Monge_, Dawson's gaze narrowed. "A pair of immortals… did you get a description… see their Watcher?"

"That's just it. I don't think they had a Watcher. The young man was tall, nice looking, the woman was very short… dark hair… but I didn't really get a good look at either of them. I thought I should check in with someone since he had an interaction with another immortal. That's one of the directives they want us to report on these days."

"Yeah… " Dawson nodded. "I… uh… may know who they were… Their Watcher might be in trouble if you didn't see him… I can uh… take care of this."

"Well names would be nice… for Delano's Chronicle. That's mainly what I wanted to know. That and get some funds and get some back-up or something. I really don't know this city or the language or…"

"I can take care of all that… Melanie. You did right coming here… but why did you seek me out?"

"After we talked on the phone years ago… I looked you up on the database… Today, I remembered that you had owned a bar here in Paris. I didn't know if you still did… but it was close to where I was… so here I am and I am running on again. I am so sorry. I feel like I haven't had anyone to talk to in days!"

Joe laughed. "Do you breathe?"

Melanie blushed as she laughed. "I'm talking way too much."

Joe shook his head. "It's refreshing. So many of the people I meet these days say almost nothing… as if afraid their words will come back to haunt them. You remind me of a simpler time. Listen… I got a couch in my office. You can bed down there… use the facilities… I've got food here. I can check out your boy and keep an eye on him for you… How's that?"

Melanie smiled. "You have no idea how tired I am. I don't think even caffeine will keep me up much longer."

"Let me show you back there. Now where exactly was Delano?"


	48. Chapter 46

****

Chapter 46

St. Louis

Matthew McCormick flashed his FBI badge to the local authorities at the crime scene before climbing the front steps of the old house and wandering in. He stared about the sparsely furnished old house and then made his way to the kitchen in the back. At first glance he saw where the crime-scene photos in the file had shown two men… necks snapped at a round kitchen table. He pulled the photo out of the file and studied it and the table. He sniffed at the remains of food and dirty dishes still on the table. They'd evidently been eating when they'd been surprised… Matt turned and stared at the open interior door. Evidently the surprise had come from the basement. He descended the wooden stairs slowly… attempting to get a clear feel for the clammy basement. Three steps down, a string brushed his face… he pulled it and a naked light bulb, swinging from the open support beams further down, swung back and forth, casting shadows.

The basement had been subdivided into a number of small rooms… each containing a gurney… a few also contained a chair or a small table and chair. In one of the rooms… one in which the photos indicated a body had been found… a table had been broken. Two table legs had been missing.

Matt flipped through the photos. This was where the man with the tattoo had been found… stripped to his underwear.

Kneeling next to the chalkline he stared at the photo thoughtfully. "They needed the clothes," he thought… also noticing the photo of the fourth man… likewise stripped and found in another of the small rooms. "They woke up on the gurneys and killed these men… took their clothes and crept up the stairs to kill the others. But they left the shoes… too big? Too small?"

The drugs found on the IV poles had been removed to the lab for identification… but early reports indicated they were extremely powerful sedatives. "Strong enough to keep even one of us out," he mused. After checking the room where the other man's body was found and finding nothing else of interest… Matt climbed the stairs and passed through the kitchen into a small parlor where he found the remains of a rummaged closet.

Looking through the sacks of clothes… Matt had the distinct impression… that a number of people… likely immortals… had been kept here off and on for some time. The local crime scene unit must not have considered the clothes interesting. They had collected the two swords found in the closet, however. Matt stared at the two evidence photos of the swords trying to recall if he knew them or not. He didn't.

Matt thought a moment. "Likely they found their own clothes… but didn't change… took them… and their swords… They didn't need these other two." He stood and exited to the rickety wooden back porch to stare out into the overgrown and wooded yard. Surveying the area, Matt smiled. "Where would I go if I'd just awakened down there… killed my captors… and still a bit woozy needed to move… and in a hurry." He saw the opening through the overgrown hedge bordering the graveled alleyway that passed between the backyards in this block, and headed in that direction.

He passed down the length of the alley and out onto the sleepy residential street. "Now what time of day or night?" Glancing again at the reports… he noted time of death as between one and four in the afternoon. "They needed to walk sedately… not call attention. They would not have stolen a car… at least not here." Mat pulled out a map of the area and glanced at it. "Did they know where they were? They wouldn't have returned to their own place… too much chance of being captured again… a motel or cheap hotel is most likely."

Finding an area that contained inexpensive lodgings… Matt began hiking in that direction. He wanted to be on foot… for a number of reasons… not the least of which was that he'd be more likely to sense another immortal on foot. Swiftly he passed through the sedate old neighborhood into the low-rent business area.

Once there he stared at buildings carefully and tried to think what he would have done. His decision made… he began searching for the immortals.

Three hours later… tired and getting discouraged, he felt a presence as he was flashing his badge to another hotel desk clerk and asking to see another manager. He turned and regarded the brunette on the far side of the lobby… a plastic bag in one of her hands… staring at him. Matt waved off the clerk and slowly approached the woman.

"I'm Mathew McCormick… FBI," he flashed his badge. "I need to speak with you."

The woman nodded and led the way to the elevator. Once inside she turned to him and said, "Is this a challenge."

He couldn't quite place the accent. "No… I'm just trying to make sense of a crime scene."

The woman nodded. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, she stepped out and headed down the corridor. He followed. She knocked on the door and whispered something… as she glanced up at him. The door opened… Matt could feel another immortal within the room.

He nodded and entered first… almost immediately finding a blade at his neck. "If I wanted to challenge either of you ladies… do you think I would have entered your room?"

"Just spread yar arms there… We've had a very bad couple of days," the new immortal said.

Matthew spread his arms and was relieved of his weapons. Motioned toward a chair… he sat.

"I think I figured out part of it. They were holding you two… but you woke up… killed them… and left. Now who were they?"

"Watchers," the second woman said. "Have ya not heard of Watchers, either?" she glanced at the other woman.

Matt shook his head but flipped the file open to show the close-up of the tattoo. "No. Is that a Watcher?"

The blonde nodded. She seemed relatively young… likely in her early twenties when she'd died. The other woman appeared to be in her mid-thirties.

"Now I gave you my name… what's yours?" he said to the first one.

"I am Katya… this is Amber. We did not know one another until we awoke in that house."

"Did they know what we are?"

"Aye," Amber said. "Watcher's know us. They been watchin' all o' us for centuries. Most just watch and never interfere in what we have to do… but they make records."

"I did not know of them either," Katya added. "I contacted some friends via internet from that place down the road. I haven't had a chance to check back to see if they know anything about what's going on. Are you really FBI?"

Matt nodded. "I'm here… unofficially. "I'd seen that same tattoo on a body years ago at the scene of one of our… _meetin's_. I came because of it. Wanted to know if one of us was involved somehow."

"From what I overheard," Katya said stepping closed, "I think they've been doing this for some time. They abduct us, drug us, and ship us somewhere."

"Somewhere else? Any idea where?" Matt noticed that Amber had lowered her blade and was visibly relaxed.

Katya shook her head. "I was more interested in getting out of there… than in gathering information.

"You killed them."

Katya nodded. "And I'd do it again."

Matt stared over at Amber who shrugged. "She didn't want one of them to wake up and report us missing before we could get away."

"They were evil men… do I need to spell out what they planned to do to us?" The bitterness in Katya's voice spoke volumes about her. "At least… the ones here." Katya shook her head, "I don't know about what the ultimate plan was."

Matt nodded, and sat back in the chair thoughtfully. "I need to get back to Washington… I may be able to make some additional inquiries that could help us find out what is going on."

"And what about us?" Amber asked.

Matt smiled. "I don't see anyone here to arrest. You two don't really know anything now, do you?" He chuckled… and the women laughed with him.

"Let's figure out how to stay in touch," he added.

Katya nodded. "And you be careful. I fear it wasn't just female immortals they were grabbing."

Matt nodded." Yes… I noted the clothes. So… we have… a partnership of sorts… for the time bein'." Matt smiled, arching one eyebrow.

"For now," Amber agreed, "for now." Matt had a feeling that Amber did not like being with other immortals… even those who were not currently a threat to her.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Rawlins slammed his cell phone off and hissed. Glaring over at Wilderman he finally calmed himself enough to say, "You said you thought you were ready for the first tests tonight… are you?"

Wilderman fumbled with a bagel… brushing the crumbs from his chest. "Yes… yes sir. We have the scenario loaded and we're ready to test whenever you give the word. But… It might be better to wait. There are still some small problems with the system."

"Consider the word given. I want results!" Rawlins snarled at Wilderman and stomped out of the scientist's office, slamming the glass door behind him. The vertical blinds on the window wall looking out over the labratory below, shifted in the breeze of his passing.

"Shouldn't you have told him we still have some problems with controlling them. They are all very strong-willed." Wilderman's assistant, Claire Romney, suggested.

"Somehow I don't think he's in the mood to hear about our minor problems."

"Minor? Mortals with half the dosage follow the programs and accept the scenarios… but these," she gestured toward the outer room…" We've doubled the dose and they still break free. We need to wait until we have their extended memories mapped. We've barely scratched the surface of some of the older ones."

"That's why we start with the young ones. Some of them are younger than we are. Those are the ones whose minds are most like ours. It'll work… it has to." Wilderman rubbed a hand through his thin whte hair nervously.

"And… if we fail?" Claire began.

"We may wish we'd never started. Mr. Rawlins does not seem to take failure well."

Claire lay one hand on Wilderman's sleeve and smiled. "Then boss, we best not fail."

-----

****

Paris

After settling Melanie Pryor comfortably on the couch of his office… and dismissing the band. "We can practice later, guys." Joe locked up and headed to his car. He needed to find Ellie and let her know an immortal was looking for her… it had to have been her that Delano had tangled with. Melanie had said two immortals though. Had Derrick died somehow since coming to Paris? Was she training him?

Sitting in his car as he wove through traffic… Joe kept an eye on the rear view mirror for any sign of a tail. He didn't see one… but that didn't mean one wasn't there. Nervously he parked near_ St. Julian Le Pauvre_ and got out to walk in the church gardens and cemetery. Ellie had said she'd see him. For over an hour he moved through the gardens… resting on first one bench and then another. He wandered through the small old cemetery reading the names of the markers. Nervously he glanced around at the surrounding buildings… staring into blank windows and wondering where she was.

Had they bolted because of the run-in with Delano? Surely she'd have let him know somehow. At the end of the hour… Joe noticed he was being watched. "Sorry darlin'," he whispered to the empty air… "I guess you saw him… and stayed away. I'll have to wait for _you _now." Sadly the old Watcher returned to his car, stopping to give a nod to the man observing him. "See anything you liked?" Joe spat angrily.

The man shook his head. "It's not you Dawson… but we're watching to see if immortals contact you."

"Well you tell whoever's in charge these days that all my immortal friends have vanished over the years. None of them come to see me. Not anymore."

"Then why come here?" the man gestured to the church.

"Because we made a terrible mistake years ago. We killed one of them… Do you know the story?" When the man shook his head, Joe continued, "Some Watchers thought they needed to end the game so they started killing immortals. They killed one here… on holy ground… one of the best of them… and I come to beg forgiveness… for all of us." Joe turned away and stormed to his car, hoping the lies, tinged with truth, were enough to satisfy the Watcher.

As he started his car… he wondered if Ellie had seen the whole thing.


	49. Chapter 47

****

Chapter 47

Outside Geneva

As Ellie directed, Derrick pulled to a stop on a deserted stretch of road outside of Geneva, and parked the car beneath some trees near a picnic area.

"Wait here," she said and climbed out. He watched her head toward a picnic table and climb up on it to have a seat. She was going to read her mail.

"What's that about?" Keith Boyer asked. "What's so important that she has to read them now?"

Derrick shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care." And he didn't… not really. She wanted to read the letter from Darius before they went much further… and she wanted to be by herself when she did so. His arm was starting to throb again and his head ached. He didn't know too much about this new immortal… other than he had no great fears about him… and he had evidently seen Methos… but what he'd seen didn't sound good.

Derrick reached into a bag on the floor of the front passenger side and pulled out a bottle of water. "Want one?" he asked Keith.

The young man shook his head. "Think I'll stretch my legs a bit." He climbed out and did exactly that… stretching beside the car… and limbering up. Derrick stared at him… but still did not feel any danger from him. Nevertheless, he got out of the car… thinking to distract the immortal… so he'd leave Ellie be.

"So…" Keith asked as Derrick climbed onto the hood of the car, "How long you known her?"

Derrick took a long sip of water as he swallowed some pills. "I was six. She saved my life."

Keith nodded and leaned against the car. "And when did you find out about her… about her being immortal?"

Derrick laughed. "I was ten. I saw her take another's head… most effectively."

"That's young! So what do you think about all this?"

Derrick shrugged. "The world is what the world is," he replied with a smile. For the first time since leaving England… Derrick had that sense of the old memories. He shook them off as he watched Ellie read the letter. "Why do you ask?"

"I mean," Keith said with a shrug. "I knew nothing about any of this and woke up one day to find out I was immortal. Sometimes I wonder what it might have been like to have known about immortals when I was young."

"Do you really think your life would have been different? I mean… what would have been different… how would that make you different."

Keith laughed. "I don't know… I don't suppose it matters. I learned. I fought. I killed. I make do. Most don't think I'm much of challenge because I look so young." He arched his eyebrows. "But appearances can be deceiving!"

Derrick straightened and glanced at Ellie reading that letter. Then back at Keith, his brow knotted with worry.

Keith laughed and gestured toward Ellie, "What I mean is her… she's so little… and yet I'll bet she's quite a fighter. There's a feel about her I've never felt before. Something really, really strong… almost seductive. As soon as I saw her… felt her quickening… I knew I wanted to meet her…"

Just then a strangled scream sounded from Ellie. Derrick leaped to the ground and started toward her then stopped.

"I'd kill him… I'd absolutely kill him!" she was screaming out as she stormed about the picnic site, pushing the trash barrels over. "If he weren't dead… I'd kill him!"

"Whew!" Keith said from beside him. "What's that about?"

Derrick shook his head. Suddenly he didn't want to be anywhere near Ellie. He began to back up. He'd never seen her so angry. There was a feel from her like what he had sometimes felt from immortals who were a threat to him. And right now… he thought Ellie was a threat.

Then she looked straight at him.

Snarling she started toward him. Keith got in the way. "Hey… Ellie… what's wrong?" Ellie tossed him to one side as if he were nothing. She stopped less than three feet from Derrick and glared at him… her fists clenching and unclenching. Then she began to shake and cry. Turning away she wailed, and collapsed on the ground where she stood. He crouched down beside her and gathered her into his arms.

"He's sorry… I know he's sorry. I've always felt that… He's so sorry." Derrick had no clear idea what Darius' memories were sorry for… only that they were. She turned and clutched his arms and sobbed.

Nearby Keith Boyer stared and began to wonder if he wouldn't be better off someplace else. But he didn't want to go… not yet.

Later… as the darkness deepened into a starry night… Derrick lifted the exhausted and sleeping Ellie into the passenger seat and stared at Keith. "Are you coming or staying?"

Keith considered it very carefully. "I don't think she wants me here."

"She likely doesn't. If you make her angry… she could kill you. You might be better off on your own."

Keith nodded and backed away. He stood for some time after watching them drive off… then he looked into the night sky and wondered at what he'd felt. Ellie's fury had been like that of an impending thunderstorm… as strong as the released power of quickening could be after a beheading… and he was surprised to see that the stars still shown brightly in the clear sky. Shaking his head… he sauntered down the highway… on the way back into Geneva.

-----

They'd driven less than an hour when Ellie stirred. "Where are we?"

Derrick told her.

"Where's Keith… I didn't kill him, did I?"

"No… but I think he decided he might live longer if he stayed away."

Ellie straightened up in the seat and looked around. "He was smart to leave. I've killed men for less than standing in my way. I'm surprised you're still here."

Derrick laughed, aware that his arm was throbbing again… likely the constant driving was irritating it. He made a fist… released it and dropped his right hand into his lap… trying not to use it for a while. "Well… you're my sister and Adam told me to look after you."

"Yeah, I just bet he did!" Ellie laughed. The storm seemed to have passed. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Damn them both."

"What did the letter say?"

Ellie sighed and was quiet a long time. "You really don't know… do you?"

"No."

"What did you tell Adam to make him decide to come get them?"

Derrick watched the lights of the oncoming traffic zoom by and tried to find the words as he'd done that night. "When you were burned… and then you healed, the old memory was desperate to help you. It… he… wanted so badly to relieve your pain… help you… make it better. I couldn't tell if it was from some other time… but it felt real. And then that flash we all felt and you started to heal… I had a sense of a moment in a church… and the three of you… and then a name… Alisaunne." Derrick shrugged. "That was that girl I met after we looked in the crystal, wasn't it? He knew her when she was small… she was special… Ellie? Who is she?"

But Ellie said nothing… and the miles to Paris melted away.

-----

****

Paris

Duncan had reached Paris by late afternoon and quietly checked the three of them into a hotel. After making some calls about the storage facility, he warned the others to remain in the room, and headed out on his several errands.

His first stop was the storage facility where Alisaunne's belongings were kept. He let himself in and spent two hours sorting through things before he found the **_Candide_**. It was a first edition… very old… bug spotted pages, worn leather cover… it had seen better days. Inside the front cover were the same two symbols that were inside **_Les Miserables_**… the ones Ellie said she'd written long ago. Sitting on a trunk he thumbed through the book until he found the envelope and the picture. He pulled it out and stared at it.

The picture was of Ellie. He had no idea who the children were supposed to have been… evidently two she'd raised in some desert country years ago. He turned the snapshot over and read the date… "_May 23, 1949_" Duncan shrugged. The date meant nothing to him… but Darius' words to Alisaunne made him wonder. "_My friend and her children_… _The book was your mother's._" Carefully Duncan placed the photo back in the envelope and laid it aside. He ran his fingers over the book and flipped pages looking for a clue… as diligently as he'd ever looked through **_Les Miserables_**… but he found nothing.

"_Sometimes a book is just a book!_"

Duncan smiled recalling Methos' words to him when they'd found nothing in the Hugo novel. Maybe there was nothing here and he was just clutching at straws. Still… he'd take it and the photo to Alisaunne… he'd promised.

Stuffing the novel into his coat pocket… he locked up and headed to _Le Blues Bar_. He wanted to see Joe.

-----

The band had really brought the crowd in tonight! Joe shuffled between the bar and the tables… playing genial host, welcoming his patrons… and showing his appreciation for their business. The band was well-received. He wasn't playing with this group tonight… though they'd invited him to sit in on a few numbers. Joe had declined. Amy was supposed to be by later… and he wanted to be able to talk with her.

Joe noticed Melanie Pryor standing by the bar, and crossed to see how she was.

"Much better. I didn't realize how tired I was. I shouldn't have slept so long. Watch me I've likely lost him or did you get someone on him?" Evidently rest had not stilled her nervous monologues.

"He's fine," Joe laughed. He'd had Pierre Gautier check on Delano and as of ten minutes ago… the immortal was still huddled on that rooftop.

"Well… thanks for everything… the bed, the food, the help… the cash." Melanie took a deep breath. "And normally… I'm not quite so at loose ends."

Joe smiled and then noticed Mac at the door. He sobered. "Listen… you go on now Melanie. And if you need anything else… you got my number… right?"

Melanie nodded, kissed his cheek and headed out the door… not even giving Mac a second look. Joe gestured for Mac to join him at a back table. The Highlander slid into a seat.

"Full house tonight, Joe."

"Don't you full house me, Duncan MacLeod. How was Cannes?"

Duncan gave Joe an odd look, then chuckled… "I guess that's where I was headed the last time I came in. Sorry, Joe… something came up."

"Something Hell! You coulda dropped me a postcard or something." Joe leaned back in his chair shaking his head. "Amanda came by to find you… then she vanished. Methos came by a few weeks ago… now he's vanished. What's a guy to think?"

"Methos was here?"

"Yeah, he stopped by to find you. When you weren't here… he left."

"Was… Ellie with him?"

Joe shook his head. "Naw… she came by a week later. But she's gone too. Listen Mac… there's somethin' I got to tell ya…"

Duncan's fingers tapped nervously on the table as he awaited Joe's words.

"I think the Watchers are kidnapping immortals."

"Kidnapping… not killing?"

"I don't think they're killing you guys… but I think they may be refilling the sanctuaries… it's the only think that makes sense. Mac I've spent the last few days talking with old friends. We've pooled the few clues we have… and that's what we came up with. Amy… you remember Amy?" When Duncan nodded, Joe continued, "Amy's still a Watcher and she's trying to find out what's going on. She's due here any moment. Mac… you may have been seen when you got here. For Amy's sake… you gotta get out of here before she gets here."

Duncan nodded. "I'll be in touch… if I can be." He rose and left.

Joe sat for a long time nervously stroking his beard. "Stay safe Mac… stay safe. Shortly afterwards, Amy entered. Joe smiled warmly and gestured her over to the table.


	50. Chapter 48

_First of two chapters going up today._ --elle

**Chapter 48**

**Watcher Compound**

"Bring her in and place her right next to him," Wilderman directed. "I want them head to head."

Both specimens began reacting to the proximity of the other.

"Tighten the restraints…" Wilderman cried out. "I don't want any problems!" Normally they kept the specimens separated by enough space and under enough drugs to keep them pliable, but they'd had to reduce the drug level with these two for the first test. Already both were showing signs of coming out of the delirium… and becoming cognizant. Yet if Wilderman didn't reduce the medication… he got no response at all… He only hoped the leather restraints would be enough.

Once he had the two gurneys lined up… Wilderman began inserting the probes into their temples. He placed other patches over their shaven skulls. Once satisfied that all was as it should be… he rubbed his hands together and looked at his research team. "Tonight, ladies and gentlemen… we make history. If this works… not only will we have leaped forward in dream research… but we will have opened the doors of history. Eventually… all the pasts of these immortal beings will be ours for the viewing."

There was a round of applause.

Wilderman nodded at Claire and she threw the switch. The machines hummed… the two specimens thrashed for a moment in their restraints… and then all was still. Slowly the needles recording their brain wave patterns began to move again… this time in unison.

Wilderman smiled… they were linked for the moment… now to start the next phase. He nodded at Claire as she loaded and began to run the carefully created scenario.

-----

__

Within the Dream

Michelle Webster stared around her. She could feel another immortal close by… but could not see him… or her. She stood within the empty Roman coliseum gazing at the broken tiers of vacant seats. Overhead… white clouds seemed to stream by far too quickly over the blue sky… as if time were moving strangely.

Three other things bothered her. Her hair was long again… she'd cut it short last year… and was surprised at its length. Long hair made her look too young and too vulnerable. Her blouse was a favorite one… one from her teen years… her mortal years… one she liked… but had not seen for over a decade. Three… she did not have her sword.

She shifted about… trying to locate the other immortal… but so far she was alone.

-----

Derek Worth lifted his voice and let it echo in the massive structure of the coliseum. He was in Rome, he thought strangely. Hadn't he been in Atlanta? He felt someone close by. "Carl?" he called out. But only the echo replied.

Looking down… he found it odd he was in his old choir robe… the one he'd worn as a member of the choir of Rev. Bell's church so long ago. He ripped it off… only to discover he had no sword. The robe vanished even as it hit the packed dirt of the ground.

Worth turned about nervously. Something wasn't right… and the other immortal was very near.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"Scenario is loaded," Claire said. "We have strong signals from both of them."

Rawlins entered the area and stood impassively to one side. Wilderman acknowledged his presence for this historic occasion and then faced Claire. "Coordinate their thoughts."

Claire bent over the console and slowly worked the controls until both thought patterns were in unison. "Contact," she said.

Wilderman turned to the digital recorder… he could see the scenario and two roughly executed figures standing back to back and turning about the background. "I need better definition on them."

Claire nodded and tried fine-tuning what she was doing. "It's the best I can do for the moment."

"How they appear is of no consequence at this point," Rawlins drawled. "Just get on with it. You can work on the finer points later."

Wilderman swallowed nervously and ran his hand through his hair. "Begin Phase One," he said.

-----

__

Within the Dream

Michelle felt someone at her back. Swiftly she turned, raising her arms and preparing to lash out. The other, a young black man did the same. He also had no weapon.

"What's going on?" he said. "Who are you?"

Michelle backed away from him, still holding her arms up and ready… still on the balls of her feet. "Michelle," she said with more assurance than she felt.

"Derek Worth," the young man said and looked around. "Is this Rome?"

"Yeah… at least that's what it looks like."

"Those clouds look awfully funny," he replied looking upward as the clouds whipped across the sky.

"I noticed that." Michelle lowered her arms and relaxed her stance. "You don't really know what's happening either, do you?"

Worth shook his head. "And neither of us have our weapons."

Michelle flexed her hands… wishing her small sword was in them. She disliked being so close to another immortal she didn't know without it. But he seemed a nice enough fellow.

"Where are you from?" she heard him ask. "You sound American… like me."

"Seacouver," Michelle replied.

"Get out of town!" Worth grinned. "Same here. Been in the game a little over ten years."

Michelle nodded. "Me, too. So is this something all of us go through… or do those people who grabbed me have something to do with this?"

Worth stared at her. "Watchers… they're called Watchers. My teacher and I were interviewing one when I passed out… gas I think."

"So what happens now?"

"I have no idea."

Their swords appeared in the dirt.

Each of them leaned down to grasp them… feeling the comfort of the grips in their hands. They eyed one another.

"Do you suppose we're supposed to fight for someone's amusement?" Michelle asked.

Derek shrugged. "I fight for me and no one else." He turned about raising his voice and letting it echo around them. "Do you hear that! I will not fight!"

He glanced over at Michelle. "Shall we try and figure a way out of this place?"

"Absolutely," she said and they crossed to the surrounding wall… seeking an exit.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"No interaction," murmured Claire. "They are apparently cooperating rather than fighting."

Wilderman pulled out his bandanna and wiped his sweating head. After glancing at Rawlin's somber face, Wilderman barked out, "Phase Two."

"So soon?"

"Let's see what happens," Wilderman remarked as he peered at the readouts and glanced once more at the digital screen.

-----

__

Within the Dream

Derek Worth was just reaching the wall… feeling its warm stone texture under his fingertips when he heard the sounds of swords being drawn behind him. Turning sharply, blade in hand, he stared at the band of masked swordsmen… to him they looked a bit like Klan hoods. He stepped back somberly.

Glancing at the pale face of Michelle, he wondered what she saw, and asked her.

"Orcs…" the girl murmured. "Like in those old **Rings** movies."

"Then this a dream… someone is pushing our buttons… playing on our fears," he whispered as the attackers began to approach.

"If we die in the dream… are we still dead?" Michelle asked.

"I don't intend to find out," Worth said as he lifted his weapon and began to slash at the attackers… feeling the solid hit of his steel on theirs… and on their bodies. Slowly… stroke by stroke… hit by hit… their enemies fell and the bodies vanished.

"It's like some really cheesy video game from years ago," said Worth as he wiped his forehead once the last of the attackers had been dealt with.

"Afraid I wasn't into those too much," Michelle grinned. "Now rock music CD's… that was my passion. What's next?"

"Usually more, bigger, and badder," Worth grunted.

"Terrific… I wonder what Duncan would say?"

"Duncan… as in Duncan MacLeod?" Worth grinned at her companionably. "Hope he was a friend of yours."

"You too?" Michelle laughed. "My teacher Amanda once said he had an over-blown sense of honor."

"Honor's good… oh look… the second wave has arrived."

The two stood back to back and readied themselves for the attack.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"They definitely seem to be cooperating.," Claire murmured.

"Can you make them be antagonists?" Rawlins asked suddenly. "Put them on opposite sides?"

Wilderman nodded. "We can try. I cannot guarantee it will work with this pair. They seem very easy with one another. Perhaps we should have started with two who were more different."

On the gurneys the two specimens thrashed as they fought their attackers. Wilderman noticed that their movements within the restraints were very similar to the more developed movements on the digital screen. "Adjust the dosage… we need to pull the girl out of the scenario for a moment," he said.

Immediately one of the attendants opened the girl's IV up slightly. She calmed and then her form faded from the digital screen.

"Instigate Phase Five," Wilderman directed.

"And remove the safety protocols," Rawlins said. "I want to know what happens when a quickening is released."

"But… none will be," Wilderman argued.

"Yes," Rawlins smiled and held up his hand to take a broad-blade from his assistant. "One will be."

Wilderman stared at the two on the gurneys. "I didn't start this to be a murderer."

"You won't be. But be ready to record the information… We need to have it," Rawlins smirked. "Now let's see… which one should it be."


	51. Chapter 49

_Second of two chapters going up today._ --elle

**Chapter 49**

**Paris**

Duncan made his way through the rain-slick Paris streets, keeping an eye on anyone following him. He noted two early on… right after leaving Joe's bar… but thankfully had lost them… or it was a false alarm.

Ducking in and out of shadows and backtracking, he wandered over Paris. He'd pulled the collar of his trench-coat up against the chill of the rain… and ignored the damp. It was far more important, he felt, that he not lead anyone back to Alisaunne and Ian.

As he walked, Duncan thought of Amanda… and that last time he'd seen her. He'd gone to _Ste. Genevieve_ about three months before Alisaunne's death, and the visit had not ended pleasantly. Perhaps if it had… he would have tried harder to contact Amanda in the last three years. Joe's comment that she'd been there and vanished… worried him. He'd heard nothing from Phillip since the Greek had arrived at the convent last year. Was Amanda still there? Or had she moved on… and truly vanished?

Duncan looked up as he crossed the _Rue Dauphine_ on his way toward the Seine. He wanted to check on the barge before heading back to the hotel. Through the mist rising from the river… he could see several barges parked alongside the _quai_. He had a ways to go before he got to his. Duncan hugged the shadows near the retaining wall and proceeded carefully. Some hundred feet from his barge, he noticed the car parked near the wall… and the glow from a radio dial illuminating two faces. He stopped and watched them. They were definitely watching his barge.

"Well… that let's that out," he murmured to the rain. "I guess I backtrack again and try something else."

There should have been nothing left at the barge that was important, anyway. Still… it was his place… and he wondered if it had been ransacked, booby-trapped, or otherwise trashed in the intervening years. He'd arranged for a caretaker to keep an eye on it… but nothing more. As he circled around, Duncan considered just knocking the two Watchers out… but realized that if they didn't know for certain he'd returned to Paris… that was one way to be certain they did. From the nearby _Pont St. Louis_, Duncan tried to see if anyone else was about. The rain came harder. Finally he pitched the idea… and retreated to the hotel. Time for a hot bath… and a hot meal. He'd worry about getting to the barge… tomorrow if he had the chance.

Once back at the hotel, and soaking in the heat from the rising steam of the shower… Duncan finally let some of the tension he'd been feeling since his aborted meeting with Joe to wash away. Leaning with his arms outstretched against the tile, he ducked his head under the showering water and drank in the warmth through his skin. With his eyes closed… he thought of Amanda.

---------------

**__**

Ste. Genevieve, Nov. 2007

"Then it's past time to leave here," Duncan snuggled closer to Amanda in the double bed… one of the few even at the convent.

"I know… but I worry so about what might happen to all of them… to any of them… if I leave. Someone truly capable needs to be here… and right now that's me… or you."

"Remind me to give Methos a piece of my mind next time I see him. Just like him to set things in motion and then vanish. Leaving the dirty work up to us."

"Oh… but that's part of his charm." Amanda snuggled back against him and sighed. "Besides… I know Nick Wolfe better than any of us. I know when it's him and not Nestor."

Duncan rolled onto his back and sighed, letting one hand trail across his forehead thoughtfully. "Are you certain it's not guilt keeping you here."

Amanda sat up and looked at him sharply. He loved the way the moonlight played across her skin. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you were feeling guilty for so long about killing him…"

"I didn't kill him… not really… I just made certain his immortality was triggered."

"And that's why I ask if this is guilt?"

Amanda shrugged off his hand. "It's not guilt. I really feel like I'm making a difference here. These children need a strong teacher."

"And you did so well with Kenny," smirked Duncan.

"That's not fair!" Amanda's voice rose in pitch… then she lay down beside him to continue in a whisper. "I was killed… Kenny ran… I couldn't find him."

"And if you had… would he be any different?"

Amanda punched him in the arm. "There are times MacLeod I really don't like you."

Duncan smirked, "Only times?"

The next morning he'd eaten breakfast with the children and observed their training in the schoolhouse, noting that they'd learned to work together against a bigger opponent. As he watched… his anger at their tactics had grown… but he'd held his tongue and said nothing.

That night, he'd stretched in their bed and discussed it with her. "That's not playing by the rules, Amanda,"

"Screw the rules MacLeod. These kids need a real chance at survival."

"But they can't go three on one or even two on one… you know that," he argued.

"You know MacLeod… you just don't get it! Not everyone plays by these rules of yours. Not everyone is as honorable as you."

"If we don't play by the rules… then everything devolves into chaos." He recalled Kell and his posse. What if they'd been more serious when they'd attacked him? What chance would he have had? Duncan shuddered.

"I'm not discussing chaos theory with you MacLeod. I'm talking survival. If for some reason this place becomes known and the children have to go… I want to be certain they know how to survive." She rose, grabbing a robe and tying it firmly about her lean figure.

"Fine!" He rolled over and faced the wall. It was easier than facing her at the moment. He heard the door slam on her way out.

---------------

****

Paris

He'd left early the next morning… determined not to return to see her… not even if she called. Had that been the reason he'd let himself be distracted by Meaghann in Cannes? Why he hadn't returned immediately to Paris? Why had he assumed, rightly or wrongly, that her call had been more a plea for him to come back to her… than a real plea for help?

Duncan turned off the hot water, grabbed one of the fluffy white hotel towels and dried himself off. He ran hands through his dark hair… and over his face… stopping to consider his mustache. Was it time to lose that as well?

Later, in sweats, he stepped into the main room of the suite and chuckled lightly at Alisaunne and Ian… sitting on the floor playing cards.

"I got your book," Duncan said. He reached into his coat pocket and held it out for her. He was rewarded by her warm smile and whispered "thank you!" She curled into the couch as Ian settled next to her.

As Duncan pulled up his email on his PPC he could hear her soft voice reading aloud to Ian. Just hearing the warmth in her tone made him wish for Amanda.

-----

****

Athens

Amanda drifted slowly through the airport. She'd arrived in plenty of time… checked her luggage… with her sword carefully hidden in the false bottom… and was anxiously awaiting the time of her flight to Paris. She did not want to sit exposed in a seat in the loading area… so she did the next best thing… she shopped.

The airport gift shops were filled with over-priced bric-a-brac… and cheap knock-offs of classical antiques. Amanda was amused. Money for nothing… she shook her head.

The buzz of an immortal made her look up warily. She smiled and sauntered over, "Cory… it's been ages." She mock kissed his cheeks, then stood back, to take stock of her old friend. "You look terrible… what's been going on."

"Not here," he murmured and steered her out of the gift shop and toward a dark service corridor. He backed her against the wall and smiled. "Miss me?"

"Not particularly," Amanda smirked.

"Not even a little bit? Or are you still a serial monogamist?"

Amanda stoked the side of his face and sighed. "I suppose so. Pity… maybe another time." She made to leave. Cory pushed back against the wall again.

"What if I told you there might never be another time."

Amanda sobered. "What?"

"Someone is hunting us."

"I know that," she nodded, actually relieved that he was aware of it too. Suddenly the bulls-eye she'd felt was painted on her didn't seem so big.

"Then for heaven's sake why are you strolling about the airport as if nothing is wrong?"

Amanda laughed. "What safer place is there these days?"

"From one of us… I agree. But these are mortals… and they seem to know a lot about us." Cory leaned in close to her… letting his body press against hers… for a moment Amanda's wanted to respond… it had just been too long.

She closed her eyes and focused on Duncan. Phillip's email message had indicated Duncan was heading back to Paris. Amanda planned on surprising him there. She opened her eyes and let out a ragged breath. "They're called Watchers. I've known about them for years. Most of them are harmless. A few… quite charming… but there have been some who are… deadly."

"Why am I just now hearing about them?" Cory began to pace.

"I don't know, Cory… maybe because you're self-centered and focused on having a good time?"

"So are you!" he snapped back.

Amanda bit her lip, "Yeah… well not lately. Now if you excuse me… I have a plane to catch."

"Where are you headed?"

"Paris," Amanda snapped and then wished she hadn't. "Cory… you're sweet. But I'm joining Duncan there."

"You two are still an item then."

Amanda smiled, hoping the lie was true, "Always dear boy… always."

Cory followed her out of the corridor and slipped his arm into hers. "Then it's a good thing I'm headed the same place… if only to keep you safe." He chuckled.

Amanda smiled at him… all the while searching the crowd for faces who were Watching.


	52. Chapter 50

****

Chapter 50

Paris

Derrick parked the Land Rover three blocks from where they'd parked it the last time at Ellie's directive.

"I'm not taking any chances," she said.

"But it's raining." Derrick grumbled.

"Trust me… you won't melt."

"No… but I might catch cold," the boy grumbled. He was tired and his arm throbbed again. He sat back in the seat and stared at the rain collecting on the windshield. It had been so clear a few hours ago… Derrick was surprised how fast the storm had moved in. He'd tried to talk Ellie into stopping… but she'd insisted on coming all the way back.

"The sooner we're back… the sooner you'll be safe."

"Right… back on holy ground," he'd snorted. "You were more fun when I was little."

She reached out to squeeze his upper arm slightly. He grimaced… even that hurt. "I'm sorry, baby."

"I'm not a baby!" he lashed out… shrugging her away. He felt her hand on his face.

"You're running a fever again. I knew I shouldn't have let you talk me into this. Let's go…" she opened her door to climb out. "Now!"

Derrick nodded as he slowly got out on his side. Stumbling a bit next to the car, he licked his lips and shivered in the cold rain. He felt her arm go around him and lead him along. Derrick stopped fighting it… and just let her lead the way.

Once back in the room… he sipped the water… took the pills… including a pain pill… and slipped gratefully into sleep.

Eleanor stood over his sleeping form for some time… just staring at him. Finally she turned, descended the stairs and worked at the hidden chock, which she had used to lock the door to the sewer so many years ago. It was time to be a little more circumspect… it was time to go underground… at least for now. She fumbled for the _Maglite_ in her coat pocket, and turned it on.

Entering the sewer, she crossed the tunnel and unlocked the door to the cavern. Once there… she fumbled through some of the drawers of the wooden cabinet seeking some of the older medicines that Darius had stored down here… strong ones… that he didn't want falling into just anyone's hands. She tried to recall what he'd told her about some of them… "_Medicines lost to modern man_." He'd said it eight hundred years ago… and he was still saying it… twenty years ago. "_Medicines modern man is only now beginning to rediscover_. _Powders for pain, for oblivion. Too much causes death. This root when ground and brewed as tea… calms the cough. These leaves… this mold…_" he'd told her over and over again.

Finally she pulled out a small vial of blue crystals. "_Very rare… hard to gather. When properly ground and mixed with animal fat… it will make an excellent salve to cleanse a wound._"

Eleanor pocketed the vial… and a small crock of mold. She had what she needed… now she just had to brew the potion and prepare the salve. It would work… it had to work. She chuckled slightly at the thought of using some of Darius' old remedies to cure a boy… who carried some of her friend's memories within him. And he was her friend… both of them were… no matter what he'd done.

For a moment Eleanor closed her eyes and let the tears she'd been holding in fall freely… the tears of loss… the tears for time which would never come again. She'd trusted him. She'd believed him… and now… now. Darius' lies may have also robbed her of Methos. She had to find him… now more than ever. "You should have told me… both of you… you should have trusted me."

She shown the light up the narrow stairs to the church entrance… but that one would remain locked for the time being. There was no reason to open it now… perhaps there never would be. Derrick was not Darius… he never would be. He was already forgetting the things he'd known when he was younger… he was already becoming himself… and not the precocious boy she'd first met.

Eleanor smiled, wondering if it had been that way with her. Had Methos watched the memories of someone else flitter through her mind as she'd grown… and then vanish once she was? Was that why over the centuries, the only events of her childhood she'd recalled at all… were the ones he'd told her of? Now, of course, she knew them all… at least the ones he remembered.

When she returned to the grove… she stared at the bubbling spring. "_The water only eases the passing of the dying… it does not heal,_" Darius had told her. Well maybe this once… when she brewed the mold into tea… it would help… it would have to. Eleanor gathered a pitcher of water before climbing the stairs. She had work to do… and the sooner she was about it… the better.

-----

Derrick raised one eyebrow as Ellie handed him the hot tea.

"It smells," he said.

"I know, now drink it… all of it," she replied.

He sipped the dark hot brew and spat it out. "It's bitter!"

She laughed. "I know… now drink."

He drank, all the while watching as she unwrapped his arm and began applying a smelly grease to his wound. "That smells even worse," the boy grumbled."

Ellie chuckled. "I know… it always does." Satisfied that she had enough on his arm, she began to bandage it anew. When she finished… Derrick lifted his arm to his nose and sniffed… gagging.

"I can't go anywhere smelling like this!"

"Nope!" She gathered her supplies and rose. "Finish the tea."

Derrick wrinkled his nose and glared at her… but he drank the noxious brew. "Sugar would help," he finally murmured.

"But I don't have any." She sat on the nearby chair and grinned down at him, still wrapped in the sleeping bag. He'd refused the bed again.

"I like the floor!" he'd murmured before dropping off to sleep last night.

"You always did," Eleanor whispered as the corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile. "You always did."

Once he'd finished the tea he held the cup up to her, still glaring. "I suppose you're going to tell me I have to drink another one."

"Not now… Not right away," she laughed as she collected the cup and returned to the small kitchen where she was attempting to heat soup. Behind her, Derrick rose from the floor and threw himself into one of the chairs… he sorted through the books stacked on the table and groaned.

"These are all in French… I hate reading French!"

"Well… when in Paris…" she smiled. "Besides… the practice will be good for you."

-----

****

Geneva

Keith Boyer looked up from his computer suspiciously. After returning to Geneva he'd reclaimed his belongings from a storage locker and relocated to another hostel. He'd been worried that even he'd been followed yesterday… but until now… he'd neither seen nor heard anything. Rising… he pulled his sword from its nearby sheath and stood quietly beside his door.

As yet… he felt nothing. No tingle of another immortal… so if someone was coming… they were mortal… and while he didn't like to kill mortals… if they came for him… he would. He was not going quietly into whatever they had planned. He'd take some of them with him… and those some wouldn't be coming back.

On the far side of the door… he heard the floor creak from the shift of weight as if someone stood just on the other side… waiting.

Keith centered and brought his sword up vertically before him… he took several cleansing breaths… and waited.

It was almost anti-climatic when the door burst open. Keith pivoted and brought his sword across… striking the first of three men. As soon as he struck… he pulled it back and thrust at the second… impaling him in the chest… withdrew and turned to slash across the mid-section of the third.

Even as they slumped to the ground, Keith took only enough time to grab his computer, stashing it into his backpack with his identity papers as he climbed out the window and up onto the roof. Once there he raced pell-mell for the roof of the adjoining building. "_Always have an escape planned!_" he'd heard someone say long ago… and so he had. Once on the other roof, he rolled and quickly regained his footing.

He slammed against a wall and listened… hearing voices in the other building… but none in this one. Rising to a crouch he headed for the next roof… and then the next before finally opening the stair access and heading swiftly down. He needed to get out of the area quickly and vanish.

Reclaiming the ground floor he exited the building quietly and double-timed up the street keeping to the shadows. Even as he ran… he wondered if Ellie and Derrick had also picked up a tail.

-----

****

Paris

Avril Mischkov slowly closed his cell phone. He'd returned to Paris a few hours ago… but was only now making it home. Accidents caused by the rain had tied up traffic slightly.

They'd lost Boyer. As for the ones he'd met with in Geneva… reports were inconclusive as to whether the couple in the car had been immortal or not. To complicate matters… the Watcher had been unable to get a really good look at the female, and the young man's photo had not shown up on any database.

When they'd separated… the Watcher had followed Boyer… that was his job. He'd made the assumption that someone else was on the other two… if they were immortal. Now the Watcher and two others were dead… Boyer had proven to be far more elusive than they would have thought. Rawlins would not be pleased!

Mischkov slowly unlocked the door to his rooms and switched on the light. His austere apartment… devoid of bright color and comfort calmed him… as it always did. He required the severity of form and the blandness of color to focus… to remove the toxins of his assignments… to become again the cold machine that Rawlins required him to be.

Closing the door, he crossed to the desk and picked up the scourge. He'd missed this. Shivering in anticipation and hating himself for doing so, he swiftly removed his coat, jacket and shirt. In the dim light, he faced the blank wall and began to strike his back… again… and again… ever more harshly. If he embraced the pain… if he ignored it… he could follow though and focus on the end task… on becoming immune to the little doubts and fears that sometimes plagued him. He struck again… drawing blood… and again… wincing slightly. Setting his jaw and gritting his teeth… he continued… until he was numb to it all. Until he was cold, hard, and of deadly purpose.


	53. Chapter 51

****

Chapter 51

Paris

The flight had been long and boring. The in-flight movie had not even been any good. The food was passable… and the company charming. Still, once the plane touched down in Paris… Amanda was ready to be rid of Cory Raines. She hastily exited the plane, but Cory remained at her elbow, chatting. She'd hoped to lose him at baggage claim… but there he was again.

"Looks like he's not here to meet you!" Cory smirked as she waited for her bag.

"Of course not. I'm meeting him elsewhere," she quipped, wondering just where Duncan might be found. She hated to chance the barge. Pulling the bag from the carousel, aware by its weight that her sword was still safely hidden within it, she headed for customs. She had to trust that the sword would remain hidden in its compartment. She wanted out of here… and she wanted to fade once more into the shadows. Not for the last time, Amanda wondered if she shouldn't have taken Phillip up on his offer for her to remain on that island.

Amanda shook her head. That wasn't the answer. She needed to find Duncan, and fill him in completely on things. Phillip didn't dare put too much in those encrypted short messages he sent. Duncan could be in a lot of danger. Amanda still recalled how easily she'd fallen to those hunters who'd hit the school. She'd not be taken like that again… not if she could help it. Finally through customs, she hefted the bag… unwilling to let it go and headed for the entrance.

She stopped suddenly, "Cory! Honestly… I do not need a chaperone!" she snapped. Cory was still way too close and the last thing she needed once she found Duncan was for Cory to be anywhere near her. Duncan did not truly understand Cory… and he had never understood Amanda's fascination with the self-styled Robin Hood.

Cory grasped her elbow to whisper in her ear, "I rather think you do dollface. There are two men over at the gate. They straightened when they saw us… I think we've been made."

Amanda nodded, seeing them now. Surely they were safe here… but what to do. Then she smiled. "Follow me and keep arguing."

"About what?"

Amanda turned and slammed her suitcase against him. "How dare you compare me to a cheap whore!" She eyed Cory meaningfully, then turned and walked off in a huff.

"Darling!" he called out weakly as he bent over grimacing. "There is no comparison! You are in a class by yourself!"

Amanda stormed close to the two men… grumbling about men as she passed them and then turned back on them… pleased to see that both were watching her… and that one had started to follow. She slammed the suitcase between the legs of the tall bearded man following her while Cory slipped up behind the other man and knocked him out with a fist that he then began shaking. "I hate that!" he quipped. "It always hurts me more!"

Swiftly he rejoined Amanda as the two of them raced out of the terminal to grab the nearest taxi. Once piled into the back seat, Cory rattled off an address, while the two of them began laughing uncontrollably.

"That was fun," Amanda managed to get out.

"It was… wasn't it!" he agreed, then leaned over to kiss her.

Amanda found herself kissing him back. She raised her hands uncertain as to whether to embrace him or not. Finally she pushed him away and bit her lips. "I can't… really Cory… I can't."

Cory sat back and nodded. "If you're certain… but I had to try."

Amanda smiled as she glanced out at the gray Paris dawn. "You're sweet to try… but honestly… I really can't. Where are we going?" she suddenly asked.

"A friend of mine has a place near here… I thought we could go there."

"No!" Amanda leaned forward to give MacLeod's address and then bit her tongue. She didn't know where he'd be. She collapsed back in the seat.

"My luck's looking better suddenly," Cory laughed.

Amanda crossed her legs. "Just don't get any ideas," she said softly and wondered just how best to find MacLeod.

-----

Amy nervously bit her lip. She'd been told to report in early this morning… evidently someone wanted an update.

Avril Mischkov flipped through the file… and sighed. He swiveled toward her, as he regarded her from his chair. "You haven't been entirely honest with us have you Ms. Meyers."

"I'm certain I don't know to what you are referring, Mr. Mischkov," she said evenly, afraid he could hear her heart pounding.

"You neglected to mention that Duncan MacLeod was at Dawson's bar last night."

"I was not away of that. Joe was alone when I arrived. We spoke of several things throughout the evening… He did not mention MacLeod." Amy was afraid to say anything else… she thought her throat was ready to shut and worried that she'd soon be gasping for air… and he'd know… he'd know. And it _was_ the truth. She had not seen MacLeod… nor had Joe mentioned he'd been there. Amy had gathered that someone had made contact with her father, though. She had seen it in the brightness of his eyes… and the flush on his face.

"It's your business to know," said Mischkov darkly. "You will find out who he saw… he tried to meet with someone a few days ago… at _St. Julien Le Pauvre_… do you recognize the significance of that place?"

Amy nodded. "Yes sir." Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Then meet him for lunch… unexpectedly… drop by… try to get him to open up." Mischkov closed the folder abruptly and Amy knew she was dismissed. Nodding to him she rose and was leaving when she heard him comment. "Make certain you bring us a name."

Amy nodded once more, closed her eyes for a moment… then left. She'd have to give them someone… but who? She had a feeling Joe wouldn't agree to this… even if he knew someone who'd be willing. Thoughtfully she sat at her station… thumbing through journals. She had to find someone… or else.

-----

"Duncan please! I didn't get to see anything of Rome… I so want to see Paris again… really see it!" Alisaunne pleaded.

"Not today. It's not safe. Watchers picked up on me yesterday. I need to find a way to see Joe and learn what's going on." Duncan rubbed one hand across his brow as he tapped the stylus on the PPC screen. A brief email from Phillip translated that they were safe, there were Watcher problems, and that Amanda was on her way to Paris. Another one from Katya in St. Louis on an old address warned of much the same thing. That meant this thing was bigger than he'd thought. It meant there was more at stake here than just a few of them in Europe… it may be world-wide. Joe had said Methos had vanished, and then Ellie. Duncan was worried about Derrick… if the immortals had vanished… what would have happened to the boy.

Duncan sat back and did some mental math… not a boy anymore… he was likely about eighteen now. Duncan shuddered… still too young… Thoughts of Richie crossed his mind… eighteen was still too young.

Glancing at Ian, Duncan sighed. So young… so very young. He tapped the stylus to let Phillip know he'd gotten the message. If Amanda were on her way… where would she look for him? Who would she contact? Joe! She'd contact Joe.

He turned off the PPC and rose suddenly. "I have to go out. Stay here and don't open the door for anyone… not anyone." Meeting both sets of eyes, he knew they understood… he just hoped they listened. "Now is not the time to be out on the streets or to be involved in a challenge. Do you understand?"

Once more they nodded.

"You shouldn't be out there either," Alisaunne called to him as he made to leave.

Duncan paused… "I know," he said, "I know… but it can't be helped. I'll keep in touch." He closed the door behind him and listened for the bolt. Satisfied they were as safe as he could make them… Duncan MacLeod headed out once more. He needed to figure out how and where to meet safely with Joe.

-----

Joe Dawson leaned heavily on his cane as he locked his door and headed for his car. Age, it seemed was catching up with him… no matter how he tried to deny it. Climbing in he was just turning on the ignition when he glanced in the rear view mirror.

Mac's eyes stared back at him and then vanished.

The Highlander was in his back seat, crouched down so he wouldn't be seen. "Just drive for a bit Joe… We need to talk."

"And good morning to you too," Joe said starting the ignition. As he pulled out, he noted the Watcher sitting in his car, reading the paper. "You did notice the guy on me, didn't you?"

"I got here before he did. They don't watch you all the time?"

"Naw… I'm pretty regular so they just watch for me to do something unusual. It's not me they want… it's you guys."

"What happened inside Watchers, Joe?"

"Hell if I know. A lot of us were retired about eight years ago… beginning with me. The ones in charge now seem to have a new agenda… but it's not widely known inside. Amy's been trying for years to discover what's happening and who's behind it."

"Any luck?"

Joe stopped at the intersection and then turned left. "A man named Henry Rawlins is, we think. When he was made European Coordinator… things changed. Amy was finally able to get into the inner circles recently… but Mac… I'm worried she may be in too deep."

"Let's hope not, Joe. On another matter… if Amanda contacts you… warn her to be extra careful."

"Amanda? I told you Mac… she vanished."

"Amanda's fine, Joe. She's on her way to Paris. She won't know how to meet up with me. Tell her…" Duncan smiled. "… Tell her to meet me tomorrow afternoon where we once danced a tango."

"That's kinda vague."

"It's meant to be… but she'll know. She'll understand. And warn her to stay away from the barge."

"Right."

"Oh, and Joe…" The tone of Duncan's voice changed. "You mentioned both Methos and Ellie vanishing recently. What about Derrick? Have you seen him?"

"Briefly. He was with Ellie."

"Was he immortal?"

Joe shook his head. "I asked, but she said no. I have no reason to doubt her. You know I don't have the radar you guys have."

A chuckle sounded from the back seat.

"Listen… I'm pulling up behind the club. I can't deviate too much or they'll get suspicious. Be careful." Joe braked to a stop and shifted into park before turning the ignition off. "Gotta go." He climbed out and with a surer step… circled around to the front of the bar… and unlocked the front door. Damn but he felt good!


	54. Chapter 52

_Upon request... I'm loading a second chapter today. Enjoy and let my knwo what you think._ --elle

**Chapter 52**

**Washington DC**

Matt McCormick's return to FBI Headquarters did not go unnoticed.

"His expense report indicates he went to St. Louis. I know I should have followed… but I had no idea he would go. He gave me the slip by going to the airport instead of to the office! Uh… huh… yes sir…" Roberta Collins shut the cell phone off and stuck her tongue out at it. She tossed the phone into her purse and kicked the bottom drawer of her desk shut.

She hated that new supervisor. She'd been in Watchers for twenty years… had been here at the FBI watching McCormick for the past fifteen… and some of the new directives she'd been getting in the last three or four years just plain didn't make sense. Roberta had a husband and a family. She was not going to seduce Matt McCormick or follow him twenty-four hours a day. And she was most definitely not interested in playing corporate politics!

Both of Roberta's parents and all four of her grandparents had been Watchers and she knew a hell of a lot more about Watching than some of these people who were now in charge. Roberta believed in immortals… and in the hope that a good man, like Matt McCormick might one day be the one to win the game… in some far off day. Roberta felt deep in her heart that if enough of the good ones survived… then the game might never end… they'd figure out another way to survive without killing one another. But her thoughts and hopes she'd always kept to herself.

She began entering McCormick's expenses into the database… making certain she made a copy of everything for Watcher records, although she couldn't see how his coach class ticket to and from St. Louis added anything into the Chronicle. Roberta longed for the old days when she could write up reports and her observations of McCormick herself.

"Roberta?"

Looking up with a smile at the soft southern drawl of her gentleman immortal as she often called him, Roberta's fingers paused on the computer. "Yes sir?"

"See if you can locate these case files for me and if Detective Royce Hart of St. Louis calls… put him through to me immediately."

"Yes sir," she smiled, watching as he returned to his office. Glancing at the case file numbers, she groaned. These were old ones… and would require a trip to the file room. She doubted these were on the system yet. Roberta finished typing in the information… submitted it to financial… and set her system on a password protected standby while she headed down to the file room to pull these files.

Before she left she called into McCormick's office that she would be out of the office for about an hour and wouldn't be able to screen calls. McCormick gave her smiling nod as she left.

Once Roberta had left, Matt stared after her thoughtfully. While he had no reason to suspect her in any of this… he wanted to be certain that these so-called Watchers were not closely regarding him. Matt crossed to the outer office to be certain Roberta had left and then swiftly began typing on her keyboard. He knew her password… although he doubted she knew that he did… and swiftly double-checked some things she'd been doing. He didn't like what he saw. If she was watching him… then he might have to interrogate her.

Matt needed to find out exactly what was going on with these Watchers… before something happened to him… and to any other immortals… be they friend or foe. He returned her screen and desk to stand-by and thoughtfully returned to his office, considering just what he knew about Roberta Collins… and what he might have to find out.

-----

****

Niebos, Greece

The warmth of the Grecian sun warmed Nick Wolfe as little had warmed him in recent years. For the first time in a long time… he felt content… and at rest. He could almost sense the small light of Marie-France within him… and for the moment… the slithering evil of Nestor was asleep.

Beside him he could hear Valeraine reading in… Greek he thought. She'd translate eventually… but it was more the sound of her voice rather than what she was reading that he cared about. Like the inner light of Marie-France… the sound of Valeraine's voice was often an anchor in the storm that too often of late was his life.

He couldn't begin to explain to them Nestor's thoughts… which were focused almost entirely on Alisaunne. Nick had never met the girl… and had no idea what she looked like… but he could sense her through Nestor's obsession. Somehow… he and the girl were linked… and the link was growing. It worried him… as he feared that one day she would come, kill him, and be lost to an even greater darkness than the one he was condemned to.

"Are you listening to me, Nick?" Valeraine asked from nearby.

Nick nodded. He was listening… he was always listening. It was the one thing he could still do… in the distance he could laughing voices… also speaking in Greek… but not the classical Greek Valeraine read… and music… he could hear music.

"I'm going to the kitchen to get something to drink… would you like something?"

Nick shook his head and felt her kiss his forehead before she left. He smiled.

Once he heard her pad away… the sound of bare feet on flagstone… Nick stopped smiling. He flung himself off the chaise and hit the flagstones with a _thud_. Dragging himself along he sought to explore this new world he'd been brought to. Ursa carried him everywhere… he was never allowed to know too much about where he was… and while he understood that the others feared what Nestor might do… Nick knew that it was not always Nestor who controlled his actions. Sometimes… he just wanted to know where he was and what was about.

His head banged against a stone wall. Bringing his one arm forward… he felt along the stone pillars of the wall with his left palm, trying to visualize what he felt. He ran his palm higher until he felt the smooth capstones. He began to leverage himself upwards until he managed to stand on his crippled foot… steadying himself with his mangled hand against the wall.

He could smell so many things for which he had no name… He'd heard the children mention there was a vineyard nearby… Was that what he smelled? He felt the wind in his hair. Valeraine kept it cut fairly short… Behind him he heard classical music playing on Phillip's sound system in his office. Nick had not known the Greek immortal well, before his misadventure at Nestor's hands that had left him but half a man… but he did have Nestor's memory of Phillip… and that unnerved him a bit. Whenever he managed to fight the Ancient down and keep him from raging… Nestor allowed images of Phillip to fill Nick's mind… images of a time long ago. Images that Nick was uncomfortable with knowing.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard Phillip's voice behind him, "Here there, lad… Let's get you settled back down."

Nick heard Phillip's approaching footstep and then felt his strong hand on his arm. The young immortal did not resist as Phillip helped him back to the chaise. Obviously he'd been keeping an eye on him while Valeraine was absent.

After he was once more on chaise, Nick slapped his palm down on his outstretched thigh.

"You want to play 'Yes and No', Nick?" Phillip asked, and it sounded as if he'd taken a seat and pulled up a chair.

Nick slapped his thigh once.

They'd tried several things over the years… and this worked best when he needed to know something. While Valeraine was beginning to make out some of the vocalizations he'd managed to develop… most of the others needed the yes and no that he could manage this way.

"You know we are in Greece… right, Nick?" Phillip asked. When Nick slapped once for yes… Phillip continued slowly. "I can't tell you where… you don't need to know… Do you understand that?"

Yes

"Do you want to know why we are here?"

Yes

"Some men attacked the school… we needed to leave. We couldn't take the chance of anyone getting to you… or killing you. Do you understand that?"

Yes

"But you don't agree?"

No Two slaps sounded. Then two more.

"New topic?"

Yes

"Should I get the writing pad or Valeraine?"

No

There was a long pause. "All right then… I'll start mentioning names… you let me know…"

No And then Nick pointed at Phillip. A strangled sound came from his throat.

"You want to know about me?"

Yes

There was another long pause.

"Me and Nestor or Barak?"

Yes Nick felt almost relieved.

"Do you have memories of us together?"

Yes

He heard Phillip shift in the chair. "I loved him once. I loved him as I have loved few companions. But that was before Nestor consumed him. He was lost in minutes. That you still remain… that you are still yourself at all… even after so many years… is a testament to your strength and to that of Marie-France, I think. He thought you weak… Nestor never was a good judge of character. He thought everyone was motivated as he was by desire and control. He could never understand sacrifice or love. For him… it was always about control. Does that help?"

Yes

"Ahh… lass… you're back." Phillip chuckled a bit and Nick knew he'd risen and left.

She kissed his brow. "Did you miss me, Neck?"

Nick nodded. Inside, he felt a flash of thought that considered ripping her to shreds… but Nick took a deep breath and, shaking his head slowly, motioned for her to continue reading. In listening to her voice… the other slept once more… and Nick was content in the afternoon sun.

-----

****

Paris

"Are you certain you want to do this?" Cory asked as he and Amanda stood in the shadows of a Paris side-street while she watched the pedestrian traffic back and forth in front of _Le Blues Bar_.

"I have to do this… If anyone can get me in touch with MacLeod… it's Joe. I'm certain he knows." Amanda gestured with her hands and betrayed her nervousness in doing so.

"There's a Watcher over there," Cory whispered into her ear.

"And that's why you go first. Draw him away so I can sneak in."

"Kiss me for luck!"

"You don't need any luck."

"No…" he grinned, "But I do need a kiss!" He leaned in to kiss her… and smiled when she kissed him back. "Now that's more like it. Are you certain you want to do this?" he asked again, teasing her. "I mean we could back away and return to my friend's place and…"

"Cory!"

"Fine… fine," he was still grinning. "On my way." Whistling he stepped out into the sunshine, his hat pitched back on his head, his hands in his trouser pockets… and sauntering up the street.

From where she was, Amanda could see the Watcher react to him… look up at him from the newspaper he was pretending to read. Cory played it to the hilt… He came almost all the way up to the man… stopped… looked at him startled… then took off running. The Watcher pitched his paper and raced after him.

Amanda slipped across the street and quickly let herself into the dark interior of Joe's nightclub.

Thankfully… Joe was the only one there… evidently doing some inventory behind the bar. He stared at her a moment… then when she came closer… and pulled off her dark glasses, he grinned.

"Miss me?" Amanda asked with an apologetic shrug.

"Damn right! Did anyone see you? There's usually a guy parked on my doorstep…"

"A friend took care of him. Do you know where MacLeod is? I heard he was on his way to Paris."

"Sorta. He said for you to meet him where you danced a tango tomorrow afternoon."

"What?"

"Well I told him that was vague."

Amanda smiled to herself. "No, Joe, that's not vague at all. Thanks!" She slipped closer to him and kissed his cheek, carefully wiping away the lipstick evidence. "You're a true friend."

"Be careful Amanda," Joe said.

"Always!" Amanda replaced her sunglasses… eyed the empty street and headed back outside. "The Tower…" she thought, "The Eiffel Tower… tomorrow." It would be a long twenty-four hours.


	55. Chapter 53

****

Chapter 53

Paris, later that day

Derrick had to admit that he felt better. The salve might be revolting to smell and the tea Ellie brewed for him to drink was nasty tasting… but he really did feel better. He'd dozed off and on most of the night and though the day… aware of her when she moved through the room… but not responding unless she gave him more to drink.

Now, he sat on the floor in his sleeping bag and leaned back against a wall staring through the open window and letting the gentle warmth of the spring day flow over him.

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, noticing they bent easily… and were no longer swollen. He hadn't realized how bad it had gotten… until it was better. Restless, he rose and crossed to the old icebox looking for some juice. Finding it, he upturned the bottle and drank greedily, surprised at just how thirsty he was. Having emptied the bottle… he set it on the counter and rummaged through a bag for croissants. Grabbing a handful to munch on, Derrick considered knocking on Ellie's closed door.

"As I recall," he laughed, "that's how I got into this mess. Best leave her be." Having finished the croissants, he brushed the crumbs away and rummaged through his bag, withdrawing the old laptop to set it on the table. As he did so, Derrick was aware of that insistent hum from the sword.

He pulled it from the bag, removing and tossing aside the scabbard, and held it before him, concentrating on the elegant and slow warm-up moves Methos had taught him. Closing his eyes, he swung, stepped, shifted left, right, back… all the while feeling the strength return to his arms… and the stillness that came with concentration. Gradually he increased his speed. He'd truly missed this.

Unaware of how long he moved through the warm-up and practice he was startled when he opened his eyes to see Eleanor leaning against the doorjamb soberly regarding him. He dropped his swordarm to one side and shrugged, "I felt better. I thought I'd exercise a bit."

Eleanor nodded, slightly arching one eyebrow. "Not bad… for a mortal." Grinning with amusement, she crossed to the stove and put on some water to boil.

"More tea?" he groaned.

Ellie laughed. "More tea! It seems to be working. Now put that thing down and have a seat in that chair so I can check your arm." She did so and seemed pleased. She re-applied more salve and re-wrapped it in fresh bandages. "I can't believe it got so bad so fast," she murmured upon finishing.

"Because I scratched at it?"

She smiled. "No… it might have been something on that dusty sheet I used to stop the initial bleeding. I knew better… but I had to staunch the blood. I thought I'd rinsed it well enough afterwards… but I guess I didn't. And you convincing me to let you drive all that way didn't help either. I neglected to check it as often as I should have."

The water boiling, Ellie steeped the tea for him… and some instant coffee for herself… wrinkling her nose at the taste. Later, she suggested they get out a bit and motioned him to follow her.

But it wasn't to the gate she led him.

"I'm going to show you my back door into and out of here… just in case you need it for some reason." She showed him how to access the mechanism… made certain he could operate it… and close it once in the tunnel… and then led him down into the sewer. She shone her _Maglite_ up and down and explained where they were and how he could hide or travel along the tunnels. "I don't really recommend it until your arm heals some more… but you might have to in an emergency."

"What emergency?"

Ellie responded grimly, "Keith mentioned Watchers… mortals who follow us sometimes… if they picked up on us in Geneva and are preparing to grab us… I wanted to have an escape route planned."

"Why would they want me?"

"They wouldn't… but they might kill you. Trust me Derrick… if they managed to take Adam… then we are all in danger. Now follow me… I want to show you something."

Eleanor led the way across the tunnel and made certain he could find and operate the other entrance that led to the subterranean cave. Once into it, she revved up the small hand-crank generator so that the lights glowed dimly. Then she waited for Derrick's reaction.

He stared at the symbols covering the rock walls of the cavern and then shrugged. "What's all this?"

Eleanor's shoulders sagged. "Old writing. I just wanted you to see it."

Derrick smirked, "Why?"

"Because I thought maybe something here would help you with that computer game."

Derrick turned regarding the odd symbols. He reached one hand out to touch one of them… feeling the cold damp of the wall. "Did he write them?"

"Darius? No they were here long before he was. He found them."

Derrick turned to face her. He shrugged. "They look like some cave painting… or maybe graffiti. I don't think they mean anything. I don't see anything here that resembles the stuff in the game."

Eleanor nodded. "Well… you can retreat to here if you need to leave the grove suddenly. C'mon." The lights began to fade out as they left and she re-locked the entrance. She led him back to the grove, but didn't enter it with him.

"You're leaving me."

"I have to check on some things… and where I go now you cannot follow. I'll be back." She closed the opening and Derrick was alone in the sacred grove.

-----

Alisaunne tossed the empty bottle into the trash, hearing it _thunk_ on the side with satisfaction. "I am sooo bored!" she snapped at Ian. "I need to work off some excess energy."

Ian grinned and arched his eyebrows.

"Not that way, silly!" She stood and began shoving the furniture against the walls. "I need a workout… c'mere and help me." Once they had made some room… she centered and then began _kata_s… moving as Duncan had taught her… focused only on clearing her mind and letting the movements flow through her automatically. She worked empty-handed… then with each of her weapons… then empty-handed again… faster and faster.

To Ian… she was a blur of movement. So focused was she… he doubted she even knew he was here. When she stopped… she looked at him and smiled. "Join me… I need the practice."

Ian nodded… he knew he was in for it now. "We best do hand-to-hand, Ali… if someone in the hall heard the swords…" he winked, then attacked.

By the time Duncan returned the hotel room was in shambles and the two lay exhausted on the floor. "Nice," the Highlander smirked. "Housekeeping ought to love this."

Alisaunne sat up with a grin. "We didn't really break anything… just… moved everything around. Besides… you said to stay here."

Duncan laughed and set a bag of sandwiches and cold drinks on the table. "I guess I didn't realize how pent up you've felt the past few days. Eat something… I'll work with you later."

While the young immortals ate… Duncan checked his email, and then booted up the game. He'd had a thought while he was out… and wanted to try something he hadn't tried before. Swiftly he pulled up each page until he found the one he wanted. Focusing on one small portion… he enlarged it and smiled. It was one of the two symbols written on the cover of both **_Les Miserables_** and **_Candide_**. It was small… very light… and totally obscured by more pronounced features… but it was there. He copied it to a new page and began another search… finally finding the other one and did the same. The next part would be harder… looking for symbols he didn't know… but that were hidden on the pages.

"Are we gonna work-out?"

Duncan glanced up at Alisaunne. He smiled. "Absolutely!" Saving the game, Duncan shut it off and prepared to spar with his student.

-----

An early dinner with Amy had been a surprise, as had her information that she was being urged to give them an immortal.

"They know you were trying to meet with someone. They know MacLeod was here. They're getting anxious to find him."

Joe regarded her seriously. "I don't know where he is, Amy and even if I did… there is no way in hell I'd tell anyone."

"Not even for me?"

Joe leaned back in the chair. "You really think it's come to that?" When she nodded… he told her about Byron Delano and Melanie Pryor. "I don't know this guy… but he's hanging out in the right area. His Watcher is a bit out of her depth. It might work."

Amy regarded him soberly. Then she nodded. "Maybe he'll give them the slip."

"Maybe."

She'd left soon after and Joe had returned to the bar, wishing he'd never involved her in any of this. Once he had things moving… and everything covered… he left. He was tired and discouraged. He'd been home only a few moments when he heard a soft knock on his bolted door. Sighing he opened it and then grinned as Ellie slipped inside… closing the door behind her.

"I was afraid they had you," Joe said with relief.

"No… but they definitely have Methos."

"That must explain why they are actively looking for MacLeod right now."

"Then they don't have him?"

Joe shook his head. "Not as of this morning. Nor Amanda either. She popped in looking for Mac this afternoon."

"They must be after the major players."

Joe shook his head. "I think they just missed them last time. I think they're after everyone. I had to give them the location of one of you earlier."

"Who?"

"Byron Delano… you had a run-in with him a few days ago."

"Oh him… the one on the rooftop watching." She smiled. "He's harmless… but I wouldn't want to see anyone hurt."

"Under the circumstances… I had to point them in some direction… and he was all I could think of at the time. Have you eaten?" Joe grinned.

Ellie eyed him questioningly and then shook her head. "No…" she finally said.

"Perfect!" Joe turned toward his kitchen. "I got this special… won't be long."

Ellie laughed and surveyed the room. Noticing the photograph of two small children, she picked it up and was running her fingers slowly over the glass when he came up behind her.

"My grandchildren."

Ellie smiled at him. "I didn't realize you even had children."

Joe reached by and picked up a small photo of Amy and him, casually explaining about Amy… and how she was in Watchers. A buzzer sounded. He winked. "I'll be right back… have a seat."

Ellie thoughtfully replaced the children's photo on the bookcase and curled up on the couch. Joe entered with pizza.

"I ordered this special from one of my favorite places in Chicago. I hope you like everything. It's the only way to go."

Ellie nodded with an amused expression. "Real Chicago deep-dish pizza. So this is a date."

"You betcha!" He set things down and watched as she bit daintily into one slice. "And…" he hit the remote for the television, accessing the menu on the disk drive, and then punching in his selection. A baseball game began to show. "It's from the World Series two years ago… when the Cubs finally won."

Ellie laughed. "Our ballgame! You are such a romantic!" She leaned against him on the couch and continued to nibble quietly on her slice of pizza as she watched the game.

Joe leaned back with his arm about her. "_I won't let anything happen to you_," he promised himself silently. "_No matter what_."

Shortly afterwards, she leaned forward and put down the slice she was eating and stared at him. "I can't stay long. I just wanted you to know we were fine and see what you'd found out. If you see MacLeod… tell him to come to the church… to come inside and wait. I'll meet with him there. We have to locate wherever these Watchers are hiding Methos."

"You think he's still alive, then?"

Ellie nodded with a sad smile. "He's alive. I can still feel him in my dreams… I just can't seem to make a connection. But at least I know he's there. But for how much longer?" she spread her hands and shrugged. "I don't know. If we don't find him soon… he may never be the same again. He's lost in old memory… and those are gradually pulling him back to that mindset."

Joe wrinkled his brow… tilting his head to one side. "You think he's becoming Death again?"

Ellie nodded. "Either that… or he's taken so much in over the years… that he's starting to lose his sense of self." There was a haunted expression on her face. She shivered.

"What did he do?" Joe's voice rose.

Ellie smiled and shook her head. "We're fine… but I have to find him."

"Ellie… please, you need to be honest with me or I won't know how to help."

Ellie paused at the door and looked back, her eyes passing over the pizza, the television with its muted ballgame, and the photographs on Joe's bookcase. "I'm not important Joe… they are. You have no idea how precious children are… what a miracle they are. We may live a long time… but when we die we are gone forever… unless some memory of our lives remains. Children are something we cannot have…" her voice broke in a sob. "And if it were possible… we wouldn't be who we are. Your immortality lies with them and their memories of you. Don't put them in danger Joe. Them or you." Opening the door… she vanished into the night.

After she was gone, Joe surveyed the remains of the pizza and turned off the ballgame. "I still owe you a tour of Chicago, darlin'… a tour of Chicago." But he stared at the photo of the twins and smiled. "My immortality… absolutely!" He rose to clean up the mess.


	56. Chapter 54

****

Chapter 54

Berlin

By evening Reagan Cole and Warren Green were rested and nearly ready to move on. Reagan stopped at a different internet cafe and over a large coffee… checked messages again. Depending on the replies she'd gotten, if any, they'd head out. If she knew nothing else… it would be to Paris that she'd head.

The computer sounded softly that she had unread messages. Grinning, Reagan leaned forward and scanned through them. Others had recently learned of these Watchers as well… and many were laying low. Katya spoke of a frightening encounter in America, and her fears as to what was happening. Steven Keane, having "interviewed" his Watcher after Reagan had left… had also gone on the run. "They'll know some of us know," he wrote. Obviously he hadn't the heart to kill his, nor the desire to drag him along with him.

Reagan smiled over Jade's email. She was involved at the moment in a rather "touchy" (Reagan read "illegal") venture but would keep her eyes peeled for signs of being "watched."

But it was Duncan's odd email that made Reagan sit up and take notice. "Some Watchers but not all involved. Use restraint. Investigate. Report additional information." He'd copied to all the others. Duncan did not mention where he was at the moment. Reagan hoped it was Paris, but realized that none of them wanted to say exactly where they were. Even Katya's mentioned "they" were on the move again. Reagan was curious as to who was with Katya… but understood the need for silence.

"Paris it is then," Reagan decided as she cleared the information from the computer… and shut it down. Glancing around, Reagan decided maybe one of the new wireless ones might be necessary after all. She hadn't liked them when they came out… preferring to check in on one of these occasionally… but maybe it was time.

Thoughtfully she sipped at her coffee as she paid for her time, accepted her change and headed into the Berlin night. They'd get food and start again tomorrow.

Not far from the hotel… Reagan noted two men following her… two men who'd been lounging about the cafe earlier.

"Damn!" she hissed and tossed her cup into the nearest trash receptacle. She sped up, listening for their footsteps on the pavement behind her. Reagan passed by her hotel and went two more blocks before she was certain they were indeed following her.

She had to decide quickly if a dark alley or a crowded street would be best. In a crowd, while she might be safer… she would also be more limited in her response. Still… the lights and the people might help. Accordingly… she crossed the street and entered the brightly-lit shopping mall. Reagan headed for a department store in the midst of the mall.

All about her tourists and locals laughed and shopped, brushing against her as she threaded her way through them. Her gaze continually swept over the crowd until she saw them… and they saw that she knew they were there.

One man was speaking into a cell phone… the other pushed through some people in an attempt to close in on her.

"This isn't good!" Reagan grimaced as she glanced around. "They're calling for reinforcements." She changed directions and headed into a small bakery… ostensibly standing in line for service. Once she noted where the two men were again… closer but still only watching and not attacking, she thought quickly.

Whipping out her gun she fired two warning shots directly into the air. The crowd around her hit the ground and others raced for cover. The two men flinched and cowered… and continued to stare at her.

Two uniformed police officers approached… guns before them… pointed at her. Reagan flipped her gun onto her fingers and held her hands up. When told to drop it, she did so and allowed herself to be arrested.

As they led her away handcuffed… Reagan smirked at the Watchers. She'd have a hard time talking her way out of this… but at least they wouldn't be able to get to her for a while… at least she hoped not.

Just as she was being placed in the squad car… Reagan felt the unmistakable buzz of another immortal. She paused for a moment looking around. Her eyes met those of a craggy faced man. Even as she was being forced into the car… she attempted to yell at him in Latin to run. She only hoped he did so. If the Watchers lost her… they would focus on him… and she doubted he'd fight them. He might have once… when he'd used the name Kage… but she'd heard in recent years that he was holy man… one who traveled the earth helping mortals.

As the squad car drove off… Reagan could see the Watchers in the crowd behind them… but there was no sign of Kage.

-----

Warren heard the police sirens outside. Peering through the curtains over the windows, he tried to make sense of the scene before him. He'd heard the shots earlier… but muffled… more like backfires… and hadn't paid too much attention until the sirens had sounded so closely.

He could vaguely make out Reagan's form as she was led to the police car.

He turned from the window as if seen… and stood with his back against a wall. "What now?" he wondered. By this time, his part in her vanishing might be known. Should he let the Watchers know where he was and concoct some story to cover his being with her… or should he stay put? Reagan Cole was one of the most capable immortals he'd studied in his time in the academy. She was quick, flexible in her stories, and had a resonable explanation for anything she did. Warren had to trust she knew what she was doing. She'd told him to stay out of sight. So he would… at least until tomorrow morning. If she hadn't returned… Warren would have to decide then what to do… and whom to approach.

Making certain the drapes were once more closed… he paced nervously about the room for some time, before finally sitting on the edge of the bed. Staying here and waiting was hard… Maybe there was something he could do… but what?

-----

Kage had understood the old Latin. While it wasn't his first language… he was old enough to understand it. That the immortal had warned him… meant there was some danger here… one that through her actions… she was attempting to escape.

One of his followers touched his arm. "John… perhaps we should move on." Kage nodded. His closest followers were arrayed about him as if protecting him from the crowds. Kage… or Kirin as he often thought of himself these days… let them surround him for the moment as they retreated up the Berlin _strasse_ and away from the prying eyes of the Berlin police.

Kirin had been here for only a few months, having arrived back in Europe after a sojourn in war-torn Somalia. He'd lived among the poor and tried everything he could think of to protect them… to ease their pain… and to teach patience and acceptance of those most different. He'd done well… but when he'd died in a bombing, he'd realized he had to move on… again.

The man known to the world as John Kirin had no fear of death… not because he was an immortal… but because he'd come to understand that as long as the game went on… as long as his kind continued to kill one another… he'd die. That he hadn't… said more about the immortals whose lives he'd changed… than about his own abilities.

He had not touched a sword in nearly thirty years. Nor did he have on his person any other weapon. If there were a danger here… if the immortal woman had felt she had no other recourse than to go public somehow and risk exposure… then the danger was great.

At the approach of another immortal presence, Kage glanced up with a smile. "Grace," he said softly. "I fear there has been some trouble."

Grace Chandel glanced behind John and his group and nodded. "I wonder what it could be?" They'd met in Africa several years ago… and Grace, whose centuries of work as a healer and then medical researcher, had found much about John that had interested her. For one… she knew she was in no danger around him… and for another, he'd known Duncan… once upon a time.

"We best move on," John said with a gentle smile and slipped an arm into hers as they walked away. As they walked, he whispered in Latin, "One of us was arrested. She warned me to get away."

"You didn't know her?" Grace replied quietly, pulling her soft shawl around her shoulders for some additional warmth.

John shook his head. "But I think she knew me… or maybe the man I once was."

Grace nodded. John had explained his checkered past to her… offering her the opportunity to remain or to leave. In offering her the choice, Grace had understood he wanted her to remain with him… but would not force her. She could make her own decisions about her life. Because Grace had the choice… she chose to remain. There was much about John Kirin that reminded her of Darius… whom he had met long ago. John had chuckled at that, "Brother Darius might be pleased to know if he were still with us, that his words did indeed land on fertile soil… even if it took a century for them to blossom."

"Yes," Grace had agreed, softly wiping one eye free of tears. "He'd be pleased."

The two immortals and their followers… vanished into the Berlin night… unaware that they were also being followed.

-----

****

Paris

Eleanor slipped into the grove from the sewer and climbed the stairs to her rooms. Inside, Derrick sat morosely on the floor… reading.

"Which one did you pick?" she asked brightly, and smiled at his glare. The boy shrugged and continued to read.

"I need to check your arm again."

"It's fine," he mumbled.

"And I want it to stay that way!" Eleanor insisted, kneeling beside him and examining the wound beneath the dressings. She smiled. Whatever infection had been there seemed totally gone for the moment. Humming she spread on some additional salve and fresh bandages. "Maybe tomorrow we'll only change them once," she murmured.

Derrick snorted.

Eleanor eyed him carefully. Derrick was getting increasingly angry as if there was something boiling over in him that he could not control. She leaned against the wall beside him and asked, "What's wrong… what's really wrong?"

Derrick pretended to read… ignoring her.

She waited.

Finally he closed the book. "I want to go home," he finally said.

Eleanor laughed lightly. "Well… I did suggest you remain there. Perhaps next time you'll listen to me."

"I don't want to stay here. I don't like it here. It's awful."

Eleanor nodded. "It's not the kind of life for one so young. Once your arm has healed… I'll send you home."

Derrick turned. "Not without you."

"I have to stay and find Adam, Derrick. Unless and until I know he's dead… I have to. You don't." She lay one small hand on his arm. "My life is with him. You are nearly grown and will move on with your life soon. There is a world out there just waiting for you to discover it… and I want you to see it all. But understand this Derrick. Where you go and what you do with your life is your own affair. I just want you to make the most of it. I want you to see and learn all manner of things. I've already been anywhere I ever want to go. Now all I want… is Adam."

"And if he dies?" Tears were welling up in the boy's eyes.

Eleanor smiled, her own eyes also filling. "That is not an option I am willing to face tonight. I will find him… I have to." She squeezed his arm with reassurance and rose. "If you're staying in here, I'll toddle on off to bed now."

Derrick nodded and watched her go into "her" room and shut the door. For a brief moment he could recall her doing this at other times… and teasing him… no not him… the other one… to join her. But things were different now. And there were no old memories or other voices talking to him any longer. He sighed and opened the book to stare at the French words written on the page one more time. He stared… but did not read.

------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Kage (John Kirin) and Grace Chandel are canon characters from the original series' episodes _Blind Faith_ and _Saving Grace_. Steven Keane was from the series' episode _Forgive Us Our Trespasses_. Jade was from an episode of **The Raven**.


	57. Chapter 55

****

Chapter 55

St. Louis, late afternoon, local time

Katya read Reagan's email with some sense of worry. While she and the bounty woman were hardly friends, they had both respected one another as females in what was essentially a man's game. They'd had an adventure together once upon a time… and while it had eased the tension between them… friendship was another thing entirely. Katya glanced up as Amber entered the cafe.

"I have us a car. We best book outta here. The sooner the better," the young woman said.

Katya nodded, turning off the cafe computer and following Amber out the door.

"What did your friends say?" Amber asked as slid behind the driver's seat of the blue _Taurus_.

"It's apparently the same in Europe. Whatever is happening… it's everywhere."

"Then we best be on the lookout for anyone Watchin', " Amber grinned as she turned on the ignition.

"East toward Washington. We'll link up with McCormick there and see what he knows."

"You trust him then?"

"For now," Katya said leaning back and adjusting her seatbelt. We need some help, and without him… we're just two fugitives on the run. We may need him to vouch for us at some point."

Amber pulled out into traffic and headed east. As a rule, she remained separated from other immortals except when unavoidable. Closely working with another, albeit one with whom she was now comfortable, was a new and different experience for her. "_Never completely trust anyone!_" Connor had told her… and she understood this… but living an immortal life was a lonely business… and Amber found she rather liked working with another one… even if it were only for a brief time. "Then to Washington we go," Amber said, letting the lilt in her voice nearly turn her words to song.

Katya looked at her strangely, then laughed and added her own lyrics, "For a huntin' we will go."

-----

****

Washington DC, early evening local time

Leaving his office, Matt was aware that Roberta was closely behind him. He wanted to talk with her… but not here at headquarters. As he stepped into the elevator he turned and smiled as she joined him.

"You know, Roberta, I don't believe we've ever seen each other outside the office." he bagan, letting his southern drawl drip a little more pronounced from his lips. "Are you in a hurry this evening… or would you have time for a drink?"

Roberta's mouth opened in surprise. He could almost see wheels turning in her head. "Well… uh… I have to get home but if I called… perhaps I could manage a drink."

Matt smiled, "Oh just a brief one at _Clancy's_. I have a date with those files you pulled for me… but I wanted to show my appreciation for all the work you did today."

Roberta smiled and nodded. When they exited the building, she made a quick call her on cell phone to her husband about where she was going and promised to call when she left. He wasn't a Watcher, but he knew she was. He'd understand she was on her assignment.

Matt took her arm as they headed down the street to the nearby bar. "It occurred to me today that you've been with me for several years and yet I really don't know anything about you."

Roberta gazed at him curiously. "I'm married and you know I have two children." She laughed. She'd been pregnant each time while working with him… although she wondered if he'd ever noticed.

"Yes… I do recall that," Matt said and steered her into the bar, giving a wave to the proprietor as he led her to a booth and offered her a seat. "I don't recall what names you gave them. Most remiss of me."

"Brandon is ten and Jennifer is seven," Roberta managed with a smile.

Matt nodded. He ordered when the waitress happened by and then leaned back regarding Roberta with amusement. "Do they know what it is you do for a living, Roberta?"

"Yes, I've even spoken to Jennifer's class about the bureau when they did a recent career day." She was surprised to see McCormick smirk slightly.

"I wasn't referrin' to the bureau… but to the Watchers?"

Roberta's eyes widened in fear. "I'm… I'm certain I have no idea what you mean," she stammered.

Matt's smile widened. "Oh I think you do. Now what I wish to know… is what exactly are you people and what do you do."

Roberta clasped her hands, fumbling with her sleeves and the wide bracelet she wore to cover her wrist. Matt stretched out a hand… grasped her wrist gently and removed the bracelet. He turned her hand so that her tattoo was easily seen.

"I just came from a murder scene where someone with one of those was found dead. Now what I need to know, Roberta, is this: Do I need to worry that someone will be coming for me soon?"

Roberta's mouth moved up and down spasmodically. No words issued forth. When the waitress arrived with their drinks… McCormick let her hand go and continued to regard her as she turned the drink about between her hands. Finally she took a long drink, spilling some on her blouse. Wiping her lips and brushing the front of her blouse seemed to pull her back into reality. She took a deep breath.

"What do you need to know?" she asked.

-----

An hour later, Matt saw Roberta to her car and watched her drive away home. He'd not let on too much about what he'd learned in St. Louis, trusting instead that his long association and friendly treatment of Roberta would work in his stead… that she would be as truthful with him as he needed.

Roberta's understanding of Watchers was a generational thing. Her view was similar to the one Amber had given him… mortals who simply watched and recorded an immortal's life so that it would never be forgotten. Yet even Roberta's words had indicated that there were things going on in the organization that worried her… things she was being asked to do that seemed to go against all that her parents and grandparents had ever told her.

"Understand Mr. McCormick… I'm working in a time where surveillance and computer databases change what's been done for centuries… but I wonder if it's smart."

Matt had agreed. If immortals were being watched… then he feared it would one day be too much like Orwell's **_1984_**. He and his kind would have no privacy. They'd be unable to go anywhere or do anything without someone knowing about it. "Next thing you know," he'd chuckled at her, "we'll be tagged like pets or criminals."

Roberta had smiled at that and shaken her head. "I don't think it would ever come to that. We simply want to know how each of you used your immortality and whether when all of you are gone… if some of you should be missed."

"You make it sound like we are dying out." Matt had chuckled.

"I read a memo recently noting that no new immortals had been born after 1985. If that's so… there are no more of you coming… the end of days is upon you… the Gathering has begun."

Matt had shaken his head at that point. The Gathering and all the legends about it continued to bother him, but he'd learned long ago to not worry about it. "_It is what it is_," he'd once told a student he'd had about sixty years ago… a young man who'd lost his head in his first challenge. Matt had been saddened by his loss… but had understood that not all would move forward. Yet… Matt McCormick did not want the game to be what it was… he wanted something else… he wanted a way for his kind to co-exist and not slaughter one another. Yet he had no idea how that might happen.

Now, watching Roberta drive home to her family, Matt realized how much he missed his own. His last wife had died from cancer twenty years ago. That's when he'd re-invented himself once more and joined the bureau. He hadn't wanted another family since then… but it did make for a lonely life. Glancing up and down at the nearly deserted street, Matt figured he'd best get to safety… just in case Roberta wasn't the only Watcher on him… just in case his involvement in the events in St. Louis had made someone, somewhere decide he was a liability to be removed.

Matt hailed a taxi and gave it instructions for a hotel across the river. He wasn't going home… not for a few days… nor was he driving his car if he could help it. As he sat in the back seat, he pulled up his email on his hand-held and noted one from Duncan MacLeod. McCormick read it with interest. Whatever was happening… it wasn't just happening here.

-----

****

Paris

Avril Mischkov sorted through the latest intelligence coming in from their people around the world. All but a handful of the immortals in Watcher files who were still at large were under surveillance… and the new protocols he'd instigated just today were already reaping rewards. They would find them all… and Rawlins would be please.

He glanced up at Tydings. "Yes, what is it?"

"We have him. He's under sedation as we speak."

"Before he goes under completely, I want to try and interview him… find out just exactly who he knows and what he knows."

"Shall I tell medical to expect you then?"

"Please."

As Tydings left, Mischkov smiled and flipped to a chart of immortals. He ran a black line through another name. This was an unimportant one… one Rawlins didn't care about… not a major player. But Mischkov knew that the details were in the thoroughness of the job he did. He interviewed them all. Sometimes what they knew led him to others… especially ones not currently under surveillance.

Rising, he straightened his jacket and pulled at his cuff-linked sleeves. A glance in his mirror showed that he was fully in control… and looked it. He smiled ever so darkly, Then flipped out his office lights as he descended to medical.

Entering the holding room Mischkov looked over the male on the gurney. "Have you reduced the drugs?"

"Yes sir," the doctor murmured. "He should be coming around in five… four… three… two…"

The immortal's eyes began to flutter.

"I don't want him fully aware… just enough to answer a few questions," Mischkov said as he leaned his mouth toward the immortal's ear.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Byron Delano," came the whispered reply.

"Who were you waiting for in Paris?"

"Her," Delano whispered and then struggled as if wanting to silence his words.

Mischkov indicated a slight increase in the dosage. "Who is she?"

The bland even voice continued. "I don't know."

"Why were you waiting on that roof?"

"To see her again."

Describe her to me." Mischkov listened while Delano described the female immortal. The Watcher straightened thoughtfully. "Sounds like the one in Geneva that Keith Boyer spoke with," he murmured. "A very small immortal female… might be taken for a child. The hair isn't the same… but she vanished heading east." Mischkov stepped away and indicated that the full dose be given. "Keep him well-restrained while here… and until you get him to the facility. We do not want to risk losing another one."

Returning to his office… Mischkov pulled up the database he'd been compiling on sightings and possible sightings and added Delano's description to the one on the small female that no one could quite describe fully. Slowly he tapped his little finger against the shift key as he considered what he might have. "The area near _St. Julien Le Pauvre_," he whispered… and felt as though some cold wind had blown through his office. Too many odd things had happened in that area over the centuries… and many of them had involved a tall male and a tiny female… both likely immortal. But neither had ever been clearly described… nor had they ever been seen with other immortals in the area… or ever in combat… not until now.

The tall young man and the tiny woman in Geneva might be this pair… but if so… who were they… and what were they? Mischkov stared thoughtfully at his computer screen. But he knew he didn't know… and he wanted to know… he wanted to know very badly.

He would likely be here most of the night… he had calls to make. He needed to put a Watcher atop the building where they'd found Delano to keep an eye out for this pair… and they needed to deal with Delano's Watcher. She evidently was not too happy right now.

And… Mischkov still had to find Duncan MacLeod. Without him, Rawlins had said that the entire project might be fruitless.

He switched screens and began to go through hotel check-in records. "You're here… I know you're here. All I have to do is find you."


	58. Chapter 56

****

Chapter 56

Paris, later that night

The silence earlier over dinner had encroached into their bedroom. Burt pulled the covers up and rolled onto his side… his eyes glaring into the darkness. He was as angry as he'd ever been in his life.

He'd reluctantly taken the twins to Liverpool and to Amy's mother's home at her insistence, but he hadn't liked it. When he'd returned, she and Joe had explained that there was some danger in the "historical research" they'd devoted their lives to. Burt snorted. "Historical research" was a laugh. Even finding out for certain that his missing friends Nick and Amanda were a part of that research hadn't made it any easier to take. But tonight… tonight had taken the cake and he was still attempting to put it all together.

His wife and her father had served up an immortal this evening and had done so with little regard for the consequences.

"I didn't have a choice," Amy had argued. "I either gave them an immortal… or they'd come looking for their pound of flesh!"

"He wasn't a major player," Joe had added. He at least had the courtesy to appear guilty about what he'd done. "If this keeps Amy and the twins and you safe… it's worth it. It buys us some more time, and with time… we can discover what's happening to them."

Burt had still not fully accepted his wife's entry into the world of espionage. Once she'd explained what she'd needed to do several weeks ago… he'd taught her some things… and made certain she apprised him of everything… no matter how small each evening.

The transponder had truly upset him. "You let them put that into you?" He'd run his hand lightly over the small bandage on her upper inside left thigh. They were smart… they'd placed it where only someone who knew her intimately would notice it.

"They are tracking you!" he'd yelled. "Do they have the house bugged? Or the phone tapped?"

Amy had shaken her head.

The arguments had been going on for weeks. That had more to do with why he'd agreed to take the twins away than from any real sense that they were in danger. Now, he wasn't so certain.

He could feel her in the bed behind him. She was as silent and as awake as he was. Burt rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

Amy did the same. "I'm sorry," she said.

"I am too," Burt replied, and then rolled back on his side. He didn't feel one whit better. She rolled away from him and he could hear her sobs.

Burt threw back the covers and sat up… letting his bare feet touch the floor.

"Talk to me," Amy said from behind him. "I'm trying to save their lives. I need for you to understand this."

"Understand what… that this is like triage? That you and Joe stand around and decide who lives and who dies?"

"I don't know that they are being killed!" Amy pleaded. "Joe and I and the others are trying to get enough information together to stop this… whatever it is."

"But why do you have to be the one inside?" His anger was tipped with venom. The ghost of his former failed marriage raised its head. With Amy he'd thought everything would be fine. Neither of them involved in espionage… no deadly threats or division of politics to get in the way. They could live and love and raise their children in relative safety. It was then that Burt realized what he was truly angry about.

"You should have told me long before this."

"I wanted to."

"But you didn't trust me, did you."

Amy shook her head. "You like to find out things. These were things you didn't need to know."

"But I did! How can I protect you and the twins if I don't know what's going on?"

Amy sat up and reached one hand out to lightly touch his bare back. Burt shook it off.

"I was wrong," she said. "I should have told you the truth before I married you… but then… it was just a research job… and there was no danger. It didn't seem important. It's only been in the past few years and only step by step. I didn't get into this when it was life-threatening… and I'm still not certain it is. I understand if you have to leave."

Amy lay down and curled on her side facing the window.

Burt considered it. Then he shook his head and lay back down next to her, pulling close to her. "I'm not going anywhere. I ran from responsibilities the last time… I told you that. I'm not running this time. But Amy, you have to be honest with me from now on."

Amy rolled to face him… content at least that his arms encircled her… for the moment. "I promise." Inside she wondered if she could keep that promise… or if her world would fall apart completely. She wondered that if in attempting to save the immortals… she was condemning herself to a life without the man she loved.

-----

****

Cincinnati, OH

Katya and Amber pulled off the interstate just outside of Cincinnati and changed places. Amber slumped down in the seat to get some shut-eye while Katya focused on the straight road before her. Flying would have been faster… and easier… but Katya had a feeling it would also have been deadly. As it was… everytime a pair of headlights seemed to follow them for some distance, Katya braked slower until they passed and went on.

She most certainly did not like this idea of being followed… of having been followed for most of her immortal life. As she considered the lives she'd led through the centuries and the idea that someone in each of those lives had been recording what she said, what she did, who she killed, what she ate for breakfast, and who she loved… Katya found her anger growing.

"It doesna help dwellin' on it!" Amber's voice spoke up from the darkness.

"How do you know what I'm thinking of? How could you?"

Amber shifted in the seat. "It's what I'd be thinkin' of if I'd just learned about them. My teacher told me about them years ago… when he'd wanted me to be on the lookout for one. I wasna happy. I thought about killin' the one on me just to get away. Then I realized… he had but one life… and he'd chosen to spend it watchin' me. He'd given up makin' his own choices to be led about the world by such as me. I came to accept their presence as shadows. Ifna I needed to get away… I learned how to vanish for a bit. Normally they never bother us."

"I wouldn't call what happened in St. Louis not bothering us," Katya snapped.

"Nah… and that's got me thinkin'. Somethin big is goin' down. Ya said your friend mentioned it happenin' in Europe, too. Could be someone is tryin' to end the game… or at least to influence the end… and is usin the Watchers to do it."

"You think these monsters are no threat to us… the ones who just watch?"

"I think they're a part of who we are. Connor always told me not to pass the word about unless I had to. He vanished soon after that. But he'd told me he would. I kept my silence… even when I heard he died some years later." Amber slumped down again. "I need some sleep… Katya… don't focus your hatred on them that watch… let's find the ones who steal our lives from us… and find out why.

Katya nodded, but she was a woman of strong emotion, passion, and determination. If she had to kill them all to get to the ones who had started this… she would. And no force under heaven would stop her.

The lines on the pavement passed as the miles melted away.

-----

****

Paris

Melanie Pryor stalked about the room she'd been placed in. She needed to get out of here. She needed to find out what had happened.

She'd been huddled in a corner, her eyes on the rooftop where Delano had been sitting when she'd been grabbed from the rear and told to remain quiet.

In horror she'd watched as Delano was shot by something, a van had arrived and he'd been loaded in… along with her.

The squad of men, dressed like commandos of some sort, was silent, deadly and efficient. Melanie had understood implicitly that if she resisted, she'd be killed. And unlike Delano… she wouldn't be coming back.

Once here, she'd noticed the Watcher logo embedded on the marble floor and been even more confused. Then they'd put her here… and left her. That had been hours ago.

Looking up she saw a burly man of medium height, well-dressed, his thinning gray-brown hair slicked back, enter with a cold nod of his head. Ignoring her pleas of information, he sat in one of the chairs and calmly flipped through a folder.

Finally he looked up at her. "Ms. Pryor, you have an excellent record within the organization. You watched Cassandra for a number of years, then Patton Kenney until his death and finally Byron Delano."

"What have you done to him? Why have you interfered? Who the hell are you?"

He smiled. "Pardon… Avril Mischkov… assistant to the coordinator. I forgot you were not familiar with many of us in the Northern European Bureau. As for Delano… he is safe… for the moment. We have need of him in a little project. I assure you he should be fine and will be released shortly if he cooperates."

"What little project?"

Mischkov chuckled, "I'm not at liberty to say. However, suffice it to say that we should all know quite a bit more about our immortals shortly."

Melanie swallowed nervously. She did not like the tone of his voice or his oily charm. "_This man kills!_" she thought. "_And he does so without guilt_." She took and released a deep breath. "How may I best serve the organization," she said pleasantly, and hoped that he believed her. The main thing was to learn what she could… and survive the night. If she got out of here, though, she thought she might pay another call on Joseph Dawson. Perhaps the retired Watcher could help _explain_ things to her.


	59. Chapter 57

_This is the first of two chapters going up today._--elle

**Chapter 57**

**Paris, just after midnight**

As she watched the enticing lights of the city from their bedroom window at the hotel, Alisaunne sighed. She wanted to go out… more than anything… she wanted to go out. Out there was life with all its intricacies and surprises. Out there was death and all its glory. Out there… she could be on her own and revel in all her power.

Ian stood behind her and wrapped his arms about her, as he kissed her shoulder. "I know lass. But here we are and here we stay."

"It's silly!" She leaned against him. "We are not children. We are immortals and we know to be careful. Why else has Duncan been teaching us all this in the past few years, if not to prepare us for living in the real world. We can't stay here forever."

His lips brushed her dark hair and found her neck. "I know. But he fears my face would be on police blotters at present. These Watchers are everywhere. It was one thing when they just watched… but now they are collecting us. Ya don't want your life to be over before it's begun do ya lass?"

Alisaunne sighed. How best to explain to him about her recent dreams… about her wanting to prowl the streets and kill those who threatened them all. She could do it. They wouldn't know she was immortal… there would be no files on her. Duncan had made certain of that. Alisaunne could move through the shadows… and kill the Watchers one by one… and they would not return. It would be so very easy.

Ian hugged her… but her thoughts were on the darkness outside. Then she smiled. Turning within his arms she grinned and raised her hands to his neck, then practically bit him as she hungrily kissed him. If she couldn't kill mortals tonight… she could do other things.

Eagerly she propelled him toward the bed; pleased she could feel his response and his groan as if he knew what was coming. She'd play tonight… but Duncan would not always be here to stop her… and soon… very soon… Alisaunne would have her way in all things.

Within her the darkly silky voice chuckled, "_Ahhh pretty one… what a pair we make_."

-----

In the main room Duncan, flipped through the stations on the television… watching for news… watching for anything suspicious. He was restless and he knew why.

--------------------

__

Seacouver 1997

"Did you ever wonder what it might be like if we married?" Amanda had stretched beside him, naked on the bed, her hands teasing up and down his chest.

Duncan laughed, "We'd likely end up killing one another."

She hit him playfully. "I'm serious. I don't mean forever… but it might be fun to play house for a few decades."

He'd sighed and closed his eyes. "I'd be what… a kept man while you wander the world as a cat burglar."

She'd hmphed and turned and away. "I am trying dear. I want to change… you just won't let me."

"Say that again," he teased rolling towards her with a wide grin.

"Say what?"

"Dear… I liked it"

She grinned playfully and teased onto her back with a laugh. "Did I say that? What I meant was stag… or maybe satyr… or…"

He'd kissed her then… running his tongue into her mouth and his hands over her bare breasts.

--------------------

Duncan was thinking too much about Amanda and how much he needed her. He glanced at the closed door to Alisuanne's and Ian's room… all too aware of what they were likely doing. "Damn it I dealt with that!" he moaned. "I don't want _her_… I've never wanted her." But there was the way she stood and the way she tossed her hair… and the way she nodded her head…

Duncan shuddered. This was not helping. This infatuation he'd developed for the girl was not right. He needed to get out of here before he said or did something they would all regret.

Shutting off the television, Duncan rose, packing his laptop and PPC into a small overnight bag and left quietly. He'd call them later… let them know he was fine… but he had to get out of this hotel room now.

Once in the parking garage, he tossed his things into the trunk and drove swiftly off up and down the night streets of Paris… still active even now. Tourists ranged up and down the streets… but it wasn't tourists he wanted… it was peace.

Turning at last onto the _Boulevard St. Germain_… Duncan realized where he was going. He wanted to be at the one place in Paris where he always found peace… and comfort… Darius' church. He parked several blocks away and slipped through the shadows into the church. Only a few candles lit the interior. The church was empty. Duncan sat in one of the chairs, leaning his arms on the back of the chair in front of him, and just stared about him… letting the past come back.

"Welcome young Duncan MacLeod, I see you've found me!" Darius standing among peasants seeking food and shelter in the aftermath of Napoleon's final defeat.

"Aye… I would learn more about what you have to teach Darius." He'd come there… and he wasn't truly certain why.

And again…

"Chess is like war in the abstract my friend. It sharpens the mind, and prepares us for all eventualities." Darius laughing over an early game of chess.

"And this is the way you'd teach me peace."

"There are always alternatives my young friend… always. Never forget that."

Duncan shook his head at the memories. "But you died Darius… what alternative was there to that. If you had the answers… if you knew there were alternatives… why did you die?"

Again the memories flowed over him.

"How do you manage after so many centuries?" Duncan had nodded toward the pair of young women who had grinned and giggled at both of them from the street as the two immortals wandered the church gardens.

Darius chuckled. "One day at a time. Understand, Duncan, I have known love, and I have lost love… and one day if the fates allow… I will find it again."

"Is that you or that old one talking?"

"Ah, my friend, perhaps it is a bit of both of us." Darius had laughed then.

Duncan shook his head, "Was it Ellie you were thinking of that day… or was it someone else, Darius?"

He straightened, feeling the tingle of an immortal nearby. Swiftly his eyes surveyed the gloomy church interior until he saw her, ghost-like, a pale face in dark clothes among the shadows. Duncan wasn't even certain if she was real.

"Ellie?"

"I told Joe if you needed me… to come here… I didn't expect you tonight." She crossed silently through the shadows to sit in a nearby chair.

"I haven't spoken with Joe since this morning… he didn't tell me… I just felt the need to come."

She glanced around the church, her shoulders shaking slightly. "I always hated holy ground. I always felt so helpless here. Darius helped me over the years to see it differently. But in the end… I was right. We are helpless here." She gestured toward the aisle. "I saw him dead there once… during World War II. A German officer shot him. I killed that German and his men."

Duncan nodded. "Some French thieves killed him in 1816. He bid me let them go when he revived."

"He chastised me for killing the Germans. I warned him that one day someone would come who would know how to kill him."

"And you were right." Duncan said sadly.

"And I was right."

Are you really here or just a vision? Are you part of the dream?" Duncan sat back and looked at her. So pale she was that she seemed like a ghost.

Laughter like tinkling bells sounded. "I'm here."

"And Derrick?"

"Nearby… and safe. He loses more and more of the old memories everyday. Soon… there will be nothing left… except perhaps his understanding of them."

"He's not immortal."

"Not yet. Not for years I hope." She laughed again. "He hates it here. He wants to see the world."

"The life Darius never had?"

"Perhaps, but not with me." She looked at Duncan evenly and met his gaze. "I _have_ to find Methos. Before it's too late… I have to find him!"

"Joe says he's working on it… So am I."

Ellie nodded. "How is Alisaunne?" she asked suddenly.

"Fine… she's immortal now."

Ellie nodded and he could see tears in her eyes. "I feared as much when you weren't here and Methos went on to Geneva. You've been training her?"

He nodded. "Geneva? Is that where they got him?"

She nodded. "So it seems." She rose. "I need to get back… if there is nothing else… I'll leave you to your thoughts."

Duncan shook his head and watched her fade back into the shadows near the area of Darius' old cell, where she vanished. He sat for a few moments, then rose thoughtfully and followed her in there. He was met by stacks of storage and no feel of her at all… as if she'd been only a dream… or a figment of his thoughts.

Returning to the church itself… Duncan stared at the altar for several moments… then crossed to where he'd found Darius' body so many years ago. He'd noticed that day on the floor… a small blackened area… as though there had been a fire there… or a small quickening released. Crouching down, he thoughtfully ran his hand over the still dark patch on the stone floor. But there had been no immortal there that day… and he'd believed all that had been Darius had been lost. In meeting Derrick eight years ago… he'd dared to hope something of his friend remained in the world. But if what Ellie said was true… that Derrick was forgetting whatever memories he'd somehow inherited, even that hope was fading. Without those memories… they might never solve the puzzles Darius had left behind.

Thoughtfully, Duncan exited the church, and headed back to his parked car. Oddly… he did feel comforted… but he wasn't certain why.

From a shadowed doorway of a building near the church… a Watcher smiled. Punching a number on his cell phone, he whispered, "Got him!"


	60. Chapter 58

_This is the second of two chapters going up today._ --elle

**Chapter 58**

**Watcher Compound, about 3:00 a.m., local time**

Rawlins stood on the catwalk and surveyed the layout below. Things had been set to rights once more. His beheading of the subject last night had wreaked havoc on the systems… blowing them all as the quickening was released and the survivor had strained within the restraints and flailed about as the quickening had roared.

The rest of the group had been knocked off their feet as if they'd been too close to a lightning strike. The smell of ozone had been everywhere. Attendants had rushed to put out flames.

"You fool!" Wilderman had screamed. "You've blown the entire system! It will be days before we recover."

"Hours," Rawlins had sneered. "You will be ready again in hours." He'd snapped fingers at his people to bring in the new equipment. Then he'd left, storming out of the lab and up the stairs. Even the elevator was out of commission for the moment so he'd commandeered Wilderman's office until he could leave. His continued presence had indeed worked miracles.

They _were_ ready.

"We lost valuable data with that little stunt," Wilderman said from behind him. "On all of them!"

Rawlins straightened. "This is my little project. You will not contradict me again. We learned as much as we lost."

"What did we learn? The readings were meaningless."

"We learned that even unconsious… they can take the quickening of another… even if they had no hand in the death."

Wilderman snorted. "We knew that!"

"We suspected it… now we know it… There is a difference." His cell phone rang and he waved Wilderman off while he attended to Mischkov's call. Rawlins smiled… rather like a hunter knowing his prey is within his sight. "I will be waiting," he said and turned it off. Staring out over the landscape of his great plan he chuckled. "Wilderman… be ready. I should have some interesting new subjects for you by tomorrow… some very interesting ones."

He descended the stairs and moved over to the isolated cubicle containing number 47. Leaning over the lax figure he whispered into the immortal's ears. "I shall have him soon… and then we shall see what is going on in that ancient mind of yours. His will open it up… I'm certain of it."

The figure opened his eyes. Rawlins stepped back. The eyes closed.

"Sorry sir," Claire said adjusting the medication. "He's triple the dosage of the rest of them, but he's still fighting us. He's still resisting."

"He won't much longer. I have his partner… or will have shortly." Rawlins approached again and regarded the man. "You have no idea how very much I want to know your mind. Once we've finished with the others… they are unimportant. We'll have their memories recorded and we will see history through their eyes. But you… in you is likely a memory so old that even you are unaware of it. We need that one… we need to know how it is you are immortal… and how to reproduce that in others. You will tell us… my ancient friend… you will tell us. And once we know… we will take control of the game… and we will destroy the last of you. The prize will be for us… not you."

As if he'd heard and understood, number 47 turned his head… and the needles on the print out began to swing back and forth in increased activity. Rawlins lifted the print out and read the double line. He smiled. "Soon, my friend, it won't be long now."

-----

****

Paris

Eleanor shut the secret door and crossed thoughtfully to the sacred pool. She sat on the stones and closed her eyes.

Methos hovered near her for a moment… all too briefly… but she had the flash of a face… twisted in fear and envy. _He wants to be as we are._ Eleanor straightened, wondering if that was the face she needed to find. "If I find him… will I find you," she whispered. But Methos was no longer there… just the empty darkness.

She remained in the grove… her eyes closed and her mind focused. If he'd reached her once… he would again… and she would be ready. She opened her mind to the smallest thought… the smallest bit of recognition… but all was lost in a darkness that had no end.

-----

Avril Mischkov would have preferred another night at home… another night to cleanse his mind so that he might focus more clearly on the future. But it was not to be. There was much work to be done this night… many preparations to make. He'd had the Watcher Pryor released, and he'd instructed her to return to England and wait for Delano's return… or re-assignment. He did not have time to waste on her at the moment.

MacLeod had been sighted coming out of _St. Julien Le Pauvre_… a most fortuitous circumstance that Mischkov had only this very evening decided to put a man on the church full-time… as a result of Delano's words. Fortuitous indeed! With luck… they'd get him and his companions sometime later today. He made arrangements for his best people to be on the man.

"Don't move too soon and stay back," he'd passed the word to the retrieval squad only ten minutes ago. "We want all of them, but don't lose MacLeod… "

If he were lucky… Mischkov would soon have MacLeod, his two students, and possibly this mysterious immortal couple who haunted the old city of Paris. If Delano thought they were there… and that they were real… then they had to be… and he would find them.

His phone rang.

After listening to the voice on the other end, he grinned. "Keep me informed," he said in a clipped voice and shut it off. Leaning back in his chair… Mischkov swiveled and smirked over his steepled fingers. "Now that was a piece of luck," he laughed. "Oh yes… that was a piece of luck indeed."

There had been too many set-backs in recent days… too many immortals had begun to slip from their grasp. But things were about to change. They had them now. Not all of them… but they had them. "You can run… but you cannot hide forever… no… you cannot hide. There is no corner on the earth that you can hide from us… not any more."

He pulled up old satellite surveillance of the area in question and blew up the photos. He saw nothing unusual… nothing to interest him… but he studied the land… he studied the village… he studied it all. Pulling up some additional intelligence on the area, he read through it. Nodding his head thoughtfully… he smiled eagerly and wished he were there. This was going to be a major triumph! Rawlins would be truly pleased by this night's work… truly pleased.

-----

When she rose to get some water, Alisaunne realized Duncan was gone. She glanced behind her at Ian's sleeping form and grinned. He would never know.

Swiftly she pulled on some dark clothing from her bag and secured her weapons beneath her long dark coat. Grabbing a handful of cash, she stuffed it into one pocket… as well as some identity papers. She braided her hair behind her, tying it off and tucking the braid under her coat. With one final glance… she exited the room and headed swiftly to the elevator. Her fingers toyed with the dark glasses in her pocket, but at this time of night… wearing them would garner more attention than she wished… but the rainhat was another story. She pulled it over her head, letting its wide brim hide her face from the security cameras that she knew were in each elevator. She entered… looking down… not up… and quietly pushed the button for the main floor.

Exiting the elevator, she ducked out a side entrance to find herself at last on the streets of Paris… she was alone… and she could hunt the night if she chose.

Alisaunne strolled up the boulevard, passing the few pedestrians still abroad at this time of night. In the distance lights were everywhere… but it wasn't the lights she wanted… it was the darkness. Slipping into the shadows… the young immortal took a deep breath. Finally she was on her own! She did not need the others! She was immortal and trained to be the very best. She could handle anything.

-----

At first, Ian was uncertain what had awakened him. He listened but heard only the silence of the suite. And then he knew… the others were gone.

Climbing out of bed swiftly he threw open the door and raced into the main room. Both Duncan and Alisaunne were definitely gone. Worried, he was dressing and considering his cell phone when the door to the suite burst open.

Ian reached for his sword but felt the burning pain as three bullets swiftly entered his side. He dropped the phone and fell to one knee… focusing and trying to remain alert. He swung the _katana_ before him only to be shot twice more.

Hands grabbed his arms… his blade was pulled from his hands.

"We got one."

"Suite's empty. The other one's not here," said a clipped voice.

"Damn… she musta slipped out. Put out an APB for her immediately."

Ian struggled in the arms and felt another shot enter him… this time… he surrendered to the darkness.


	61. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Niebos, Greece, just before dawn

Denara was not certain what had awakened her. She was still trying to get the normal sounds of this island home memorized so that she'd be more aware of when something was not right. Laying in the darkness next to Madrigal she could hear only the pounding surf and a few dogs barking in the distant village.

Nevertheless she rose, and hugging her stuffed rabbit to her… padded softly through the villa. They'd spent most of the day over at the farmhouse… seeing what needed to be done to make it livable… and Denara had liked what she'd seen there. There were things about this island that hearkened back to the past she barely recalled anymore.

On the _veranda _she sensed Ursa… sitting on the steps and staring out into the distance. The giant was also still as uneasy in this place as she was. She padded up behind him and placed an arm about his neck.

"Ursa watch over small ones," he said.

"I know Ursa." Denara lisped in his ear and stared out at the nightscape with him. "I just couldn't sleep," she lisped. "This place is still too new to me to feel at ease."

"Old ones watch this place."

Denara giggled and lay her small head on his shoulder. "What old ones?"

"The ones who were long ago."

Denara shook her head. Ursa was a strange one. Then she heard it… and he did as well… the sound of a helicopter approaching.

"Inside!" Ursa roared and stood, hefting his great blade. Denara stepped back, her eyes on the distance. "Warn the Greek!" Ursa said and stepped from the _veranda_ down onto the garden path.

Denara turned to race into the house. She ran smack into an armed and ready Phillip. "Warn the others," Phillip said quietly and pushed past her. She paused to regard him for a moment and then raced to wake the others.

Valeraine was already trying to get Nick somewhere, "Micah," she called out. "Help me move him." Together the two immortals hurried Nick deep within the house. Denara passed them by and ran to Luke's side.

"Stay with me little one," the elderly immortal said. She'd pulled on some clothes and had her cane in one hand. "Perhaps we can trick them just a little." Denara nodded, laughing at the juxtaposition of their real and relevant ages. She was the elder of the two… but her lack of size and development meant she had to depend on the adults around her to survive… but it didn't mean she didn't know a few things.

Madrigal and the younger boys had moved down toward the _veranda_ but had been told to stay inside. They crowded around Denara and Luke.

"We do this by the numbers," Micah said as he appeared from deep within the house, his arms laden with weapons. He handed out the firearms to all of them. "Just like Amanda and Phillip showed us. Stealth and we watch one another's back."

They nodded their heads and moved quickly into defensive positions. "What about Valeraine?" Chou asked. He was doing deep-knee bends as if getting ready.

"She's watching Nick. We're the second line of defense. In case Phillip and Ursa fall, or in case there is a second wave from a different direction."

"All this to protect one immortal?" Madrigal shook her head. She'd made the mistake of getting too close to Nick once and Nestor had put in an appearance. She shuddered at the memory.

Micah drew his sword and gave it a few swings. "If he dies… if the mortals take his head because they see no reason to capture him… one of us becomes him… and no one wants that."

"Hush now children… let's focus on what we have to do," Luke's soothing voice said. "Let's concentrate on surviving… and on stopping them."

Denara couldn't have agreed more.

-----

Phillip stood beside Ursa and stretched. He was ready for this… although he'd hoped to have had more time. Ever since leaving _Ste. Genevieve_, he'd known the Watchers would likely find them here eventually. But he'd hoped to have more time. Now… even if they survived this night… more would come… and the peace of this island he'd called home for two and a half thousand years would be shattered.

Slapping Ursa on the back the Greek said, "We fight once more old one. And this time… we fight to protect Nestor from the others."

"We on wrong side?" Ursa looked at him thoughtfully.

"No… we are on the right side… it's just that things are not as they once were. I'd guess they picked up on Amanda and followed her trail back to us. I worried that might happen… but that's the way of it. She needs to meet with MacLeod. If something happens to either of them before that happens… I fear we are all lost. Let's just hope the doctor and his family are still safe." Phillip grinned at Ursa… but he was worried. He'd finally fired off emails after Amanda had left… emails to all of Methos' accounts and aliases warning him of danger… but there had been no response.

Now Phillip worried that his friends were also caught in this trap. And if they were… the hope of all immortals might be lost. He shook his head. Phillip had to concentrate on the here and the now.

"I am your champion, my lady… for all time," he whispered to the darkness. As always… there was no answer.

The chopper landed not far from the villa. Phillip pulled out the detonator… and smiled. There was only one place they could land on this hillside… and he'd prepared it long ago. He flipped open the screen and entered a code… an explosion rocked the night as fire leapt up into the sky… followed by the fuel explosions of the helicopter and the screams of the dying.

"You kill others?"

"Can't be helped. If they get past us… things could become dark indeed… especially if Nick dies."

"They would kill Nick… ahh." For once Phillip thought Ursa understood completely. "Nestor in us… very bad."

"Yes Ursa… very bad indeed." Phillip watched as a second helicopter hovered in the air. He could just make out men descending on ropes. "Time for surprise number two," he chuckled and grabbed the shoulder mounted SAM… the surface to air missile launcher. He focused it on his target and fired. Another explosion ripped open the night, and men screamed as their support vanished and they fell to earth.

In the distance… Phillip could here the sounds of his people awakening and the sounds of alarms going off. Further off… there was one more helicopter hovering. Swiftly he grabbed another missile launcher, but noted that the chopper was likely too far for it to reach from this location. Anyway… they'd likely be calling for reinforcements. Even if he destroyed that last helicopter of men… more would likely be on their way. Phillip understood that the only thing he and the others could do was fight a holding action… and hope that they bought the others enough time to stop this at the source… stop it… before all of Phillip's people died in the defense of this island.

"Let's go," he said to Ursa, and the two immortals headed out into the night to dispatch any survivors they found.

-----

Nick sat slumped in the darkness of wherever he was… aware that Valeraine was pacing nearby with her sword drawn… he'd heard the sound of it.

Within him he could sense the other slinking through his thoughts and cackling in glee. Nestor was excited and not just by what was happening here.

"_The world is mine once more!_" he seemed to hiss as his thoughts slithered among Nick's. Nick listened carefully for Valeraine… to know precisely where she was.

He'd not gotten much sense of where he was when they'd brought him here… nor why, other than that they were protecting him. But Nick didn't need protection.

He curled his one good leg under him and focused on his small guardian… with the right leap… he could force her to end this… and free him… and more than anything… Nick wanted his freedom… on that one note Nestor and he most definitely agreed. His crippled foot wouldn't maintain his stance for long… but it might be long enough to engineer that fatal stroke.

Once free… he would have sight again… and movement… he could find his bride and from within her… he would have free reign once more. Already she was bending to his desires and his thoughts. She was his… and he would have her for all time. But first… Nick listened for Valeraine's step and calculated his next move… he waited. Then he leapt.

-----

Luke heard footsteps racing toward the house from the hillside above. "Be ready," she called and faced whoever was coming. Three commandos with automatic firearms burst into the room. From her left… Luke heard the swift report from Micah's weapon as the men fell! Denis leapt forward and barred the door while Chou checked the bodies… swiftly dispatching the lone survivor.

"Move to second positions," called out Luke quietly, aware that all the children had moved and were even now awaiting the next onslaught.

From outside they could hear another massive explosion from a missile, and automatic fire punctuate the night, accompanied by Ursa's cries as he wielded his weapon. "Phillip still holds most of them at bay," Luke murmured when Micah caught her glance.

A canister of gas flew through a window shattering the glass. "Gas," she called, hoping the others were prepared. This one was hers. She launched herself onto the canister… letting her size help to smother the gas and then lifted it to throw it back through the window. She took a hail of bullets in the process and fell lifeless.

-----

From the field beneath the villa, Phillip dispatched the last of the commandos at this location and nodded with satisfaction as Ursa roared and sliced swiftly through another one. Pietros, the village elder had arrived and Phillip directed him and the others to take care of this location. Behind Pietros, Phillip could see others of his people with weapons of all sorts. During World War II their fathers had fought off the Germans… this batch of hooligans would be nothing… at least Phillip hoped that was the case. Although he realized more would come.

"Ursa… back to the villa!" Phillip called and raced up the hillside. Before him… a quickening rose… and he faltered. Who had died? What had he not forseen? With a greater fear in his heart than he'd ever known… Phillip raced toward the villa… worried at what he might find… and who might be dead.

In the east… the sun had fully risen… and in the distance… the sky was as yet clear from further attack.


	62. Chapter 60

_Adding a Bonus chapter in today as this is the conclusion of Part 2. Look for a flashback sequence after this and then the beginning of Part 3. Let me know what you think._ elle

**Chapter 60**

**Paris, that afternoon**

Amanda exited the elevator on the observation deck of the tower and glanced around. She'd added a blonde wig, dark glasses, a scarf… and a large long coat trying not to appear too much as herself. Cory, thankfully was waiting below. She could sense that someone was here.

Casually she moved about the platform… spending time on all four views when an arm slipped into hers. Immediately she turned ready to attack… then smiled.

"MacLeod!" she whispered.

"Shhh! Not so loud." He pulled her into his arms for a long kiss… and Amanda truly wished they were not in so public a place. Her hands fingered the turban he was wearing and then hung about his neck as she pulled back to gaze into the reflective lenses of his glasses. "Miss me?" he teased.

"More than you can ever imagine," she leaned into his encircling embrace and felt all the tension that had been building in her during the past week or so drain away… leaving only this moment.

"Sorry I didn't make it when you called," he added… pulling her into the elevator for the downward journey. "But it couldn't be helped."

"What happened?"

"Alisaunne died. I think that's what set Nestor off that night. Phillip emailed me later that Nick seemed to be holding his own."

"Sometimes… but at other times… I don't know." She slipped her arms about him inside his coat… aware of his sword… but more aware of him… and of his arms holding her. "Where are we going?"

Duncan chuckled, "Tell ya when we get there."

As the doors opened and they exited… she saw Cory to one side… gesturing. "Uh… oh…" Amanda nodded toward him. "Something must be up." She clasped Duncan's hand and pulled him along with her… unwilling to let go of him for even an instant… worried that he'd vanish again.

"Cory…" Duncan smirked. "What a surprise!" He glared at the young thief.

"Hi Mackie-boy! Always a pleasure! Listen dollface… I'm gonna take a powder. I don't like the look of that couple over there." He nodded toward a concession stand and two men in casual attire facing them. One was sipping a drink… the other munching on nuts. "See ya!" Cory turned and raced off through the crowd, slipping between tourists like the pro he was. The two men didn't move.

"Great… now it's our turn." Duncan glanced about… picked a direction and grinned at Amanda, "Ready?"

"Always… where you go… I'll follow!"

"That'll be a first!" They headed through the crowd in another direction. Amanda clasped tightly to his hand… still afraid that she'd lose him… and she didn't want to… not now… not yet.

Behind them, the two men tossed their food props to the ground and took off running after them. Duncan turned into a narrow side street and raced through a cafe… Amanda hanging on for dear life and not even bothering to apologize to the mortals they surprised as they worked their way through the crowds.

Ignoring the bellowed comments and the rude gestures… the two immortals jumped a low fence and hedge and turned into a small _patisserie_. They paused to eye the street through the window, then raced through the kitchen where bakers were pulling baked items from the hot ovens… knocked several to the ground… and exited through the rear.

"This way!" Duncan said and they turned right and entered a green area with some overgrown bushes. As they hid amongst the bushes, he grinned at Amanda, "Having fun, yet?"

"Dates with you MacLeod are a real rush!" Amanda smirked then laughed.

"Come on," Duncan rose and pulled her along to another sidestreet where he motioned for her to enter a small sports car. They piled in and he swiftly pulled out… back the way they'd come. He ripped off the turban and glasses and she did the same with her wig. Slowly he passed right by the two men as they were stopped in the street looking around. He turned left at the intersection and joined the traffic flow.

"I was afraid someone might be watching major attractions… but I wasn't certain where else to tell you to meet me without explaining more to Joe."

"You don't trust him?" Amanda asked, pulling down the visor to check her hair and makeup in the mirror.

"Let's just say I don't trust what he might say if forced to," Duncan replied. "He's under surveillance."

"I know… Cory pulled some off yesterday."

"So you and he…"

Amanda was silent. Finally she said evenly, "No… we flew into Paris together and surprised a pair at the airport. They must have Watchers patrolling in airports."

"Then it's amazing we got in and out without any trouble."

"We?" Amanda felt her heart in her throat.

"Alisaunne and Ian were with me."

"Oh…" her tone became a bit brittle. "So are we meeting them somewhere?"

Duncan grinned. "Actually… I made reservations at that little inn east of here… You remember the one where we fought Jean-Phillipe DuMond and his friend that time?"

"I remember… But I remember the night after better."

"Do you?" He reached over and lifted her hand to his lips… kissing it. "I thought we might revisit that time if you were interested."

"Oh I'm interested. I'm definitely interested." Grinning she glanced over her shoulder. "I do hope Cory will be all right."

"Oh…. him." Duncan sobered.

"Now don't give me a hard time about him."

"He's not good for you!"

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and slumped back in the seat. "I see we're picking up as always. Honestly MacLeod… I don't see what your problem is about Cory. He's just a friend. I didn't plan on running into him… but he came in handy."

"So you used him?"

Amanda looked at Duncan's profile as he drove and sighed. "To get to you."

He glanced at her with a smile and continued to drive chuckling under his breath.

-----

Duncan parked the car in the guests' lot, displayed the parking permit and got out… racing around to open the door for Amanda. He bowed and offered her his hand. She gave it smirking a bit, but her eyes glowed.

Once they'd hurried through the downstairs lobby and sedately raced up the stair to their room… Duncan finally removed the reflective glasses and pulled her into his arms. She gazed deeply into those big brown eyes of his.

"Hello love," she murmured even as he crushed his mouth against hers and pulled her toward the four-poster bed.

-----

Afternoon shadows had lengthened to early evening before they paused to just lie in one another's arms.

As she teased her fingers through his dark chest hair and breathed deeply of the male scent of him… Amanda sighed. "I have missed you Duncan… You have no idea how much."

He chuckled. "I think I have a fair idea. I missed you, too." He lay back with one hand behind his head and felt all the tension of the past few months drain from him. He rubbed his other hand along Amanda's bare back and smiled contentedly.

The symbols from the books and the game teased lightly across his mind and without being aware of it… he lightly began to trace them on Amanda's shoulder.

"Whoa!" she said sitting up… "Did you feel that?"

He had felt something… like a small tingle of static electricity on his fingertips.

She shuddered. "Oooh that was strange."

Duncan sat up beside her thoughtfully. He tried to recall Ellie and Methos and how their hands had sought to find one another's skin when they'd been together years ago… how their hands had move over one another. Duncan turned his hand over and stared at his hand. "Maybe that's it… a way to bond." When he'd met with them briefly in Paris to fight Nestor… he hadn't seen them much… but he had seen that… the way they were… as if one knew the other's thoughts. But those two symbols weren't enough… Duncan scrambled from the bed, throwing back the bedclothes and rummaged for the laptop. He pulled up the game and resettled on the bed next to Amanda.

"Are you still fooling with that thing?" she asked. "I'd have thought you'd have finished it long ago." She'd seen him work on it occasionally when he'd visited the convent.

"I had a thought yesterday… and then just now… I had an epiphany."

She smirked, "An epiphany? As in how you feel about me?"

He kissed her biting and pulling slightly at her lip. "That too… but about what Darius wanted us to find in this. The clue that escaped him." He ran through the first tier of pages… pulling them into close-up and going through them slowly. He shook his head. "I know they're here… I just don't know what I'm looking for."

Amanda draped herself on his shoulder. "He stared at this stuff for how long?"

"Ellie said for several hundred years. That she'd find these artifacts and items and bring them to him without knowing why."

"What _is_ her story? You would never say… and after Nestor, Methos wouldn't let go of her as if he feared she'd vanish… that he'd lose her. I asked Phillip after he joined us at _Ste. Genevieve_, but he'd never tell me anything."

Duncan met her gaze and smiled. "I think that's her story to tell Amanda. You'll have to ask her someday." He wondered at his decision to say nothing… but some part of him understood that Ellie was an enigma… one whose very existence had to remain a secret… much like Alisaunne herself. And Phillip? Duncan leaped out of the bed again to retrieve his PPC. Quickly he punched in a message and sent it off.

"I love wireless technology," he murmured tossing the PPC down next to the laptop and pulling Amanda close.

"Who did you contact."

"Phillip. He might know how to reach Ellie electronically so we can communicate more easily. As for you?" Duncan grinned and began to nuzzle Amanda's neck. "I have plans for you."

She giggled and slid down into his embrace once more.

-----

**__**

Within the dream

Fires raged throughout the village… and the cries of the dying filled the air. Methos ran his sword quickly through an old man and let out a barbaric yelp even as he tossed the dead man to the ground and rounded to see what else he could kill. Nearby his brothers were likewise engaged in destruction. Caspian had picked up a girl and was even now ripping her clothes from her and preparing to rape her in the midst of the carnage. Silas was swinging his great axe as he roared in the thrill of the battle… lopping off mortal heads as if practicing. Kronos killed two men then glared at him grinning.

"This is what it means to be as we are, my brother! This is what we are and always were! This is who we will always be!"

Methos nodded in agreement and turned to see what other damage he could do. Even as he grabbed another villager to kill… he saw in the distance a small dark-haired female… who regarded him sadly and without fear. She raised her arms in welcome. Methos pushed the villager away to cross to her. But no matter how he tried to reach her… she was always just beyond his reach… and behind him… Kronos and the others beckoned… and the carnage continued.

-----

****

Paris, early evening

Eleanor raised her head. She was curled in the wooden chair in "her" room… the one by the window. She had dozed off. For a moment she had sensed Methos… but even as she'd reached for him she'd felt him turn away.

"I'm here, my love…" she said as tears began to track down her cheeks. "I will not leave you… nor close my heart. Never again! Where you go… I will follow… for all the days to come… no matter what." She lay her cheek on her upraised knees and let the tears fall.

-----

In the outer room, Derrick pulled the crystal from its bag and settled back against the wall staring at it. It lay dormant in his hand as it had for years… and yet… something had made him think of it. He shrugged and set it nearby on the sleeping bag and rose to get something to drink. He was bored by all this inactivity… and anxious to be on the go again with something to do… now that he felt better. As he rose, his sword, propped against the wall fell over onto the sleeping bag. As he walked away, his footsteps shifted the bag and the crystal rolled against the sword. Had he been watching, he would have seen a small flash of light as they touched. But as it was, by the time he returned to move the sword out of his way so he could stretch out and play with his laptop… the light had vanished and both were dark once more.

Derrick booted up the game and flipped through the pages once more, seeing nothing, seeing only the same images he'd always seen… and finding nothing that helped. Yet he noted… for the first time in weeks… he was truly interested in this once again. But within him… there were no voices… and no flashes of old memory.


	63. Entr'acte Two

_Here's the flashback sequence that separates Section Two from Section Three. Another Chapter will load shortly to begin the next section._ --elle

**_Entr'acte Two_**

_Paris, March 1993_

  
  
_these wounds won't seem to heal  
this pain is just too real  
there's just too much that time cannot erase _  
  
from **_My Immortal_**, recorded by Envanescence 

Feeling the immediate closeness of an immortal caused Methos to glance upward from where he was wrapping the customer's purchases at **Shakespeare & Company**. He'd reluctantly promised Don Salzer he'd watch the store for a few days while Don and Christine took a short holiday.

'Who better?" Don had laughed. "You spend too much time in research. You should get out more… be with people."

The fact that he did not want to be out and with people filled Methos with a sense of irony. But he'd agreed.

"Thank you and come again," he smiled his most boyish grin… and glanced about the store noting the presence of only one additional customer… the old man Combfrey who came in almost daily from what Don had told him.

Methos closed his eyes to get a feel for the location of the other and then as his departing customer opened the front door, and the bell tinkled merrily, he felt someone enter and slip to one side. Methos smiled.

Eleanor ran one of her small hands along the spines of some books arranged on a sale table and idly picked one up to thumb through it.

"Imagine meeting you here?" he whispered making certain he appeared bored and jaded… as if she hadn't cut him to the quick the last time with her sudden disappearance.

"Just passing by… felt you… wondered who it was." She replaced the book and looked around. More loudly she asked, "Do you have any first editions of Flaubert?

"**_Madame Bovary_**?" he replied, playing the game.

"Hmmm?" she regarded him flatly. Then he thought he saw an unspoken question in her haunted eyes. It was as if she wanted to ask him something… and then she blinked… the question was gone… her eyes regarded him without interest. He sighed.

"Not here, but I do know where you can locate one." Quickly he wrote a time and address on a slip of paper and handed it to her, hoping she'd meet him later…. that they could clear the air.

She glanced at it, arching an eyebrow. "I don't think so. I don't think I'm really all that interested anymore." Wadding up the slip of paper she dropped it onto the floor. She turned to leave and he caught her arm… not at all surprised when she whipped around and crushed his fingers. She backed away. He ground his teeth and flexed his fingers… letting them straighten and heal on their own.

"If you are certain."

"I am. I think our business is concluded." She turned and flounced out the door.

"_Why?_" he wanted to scream after her. But he said nothing. There had been no hate, no fear, no teasing in her eyes. There was only a flat deadness that seemed to regard him as nothing of any importance. Whatever they might have been to one another once… there was nothing there now.

For the first time in over eleven hundred years, he had no internal sense of her at all. He'd never understood what had happened that last night. They'd made love with an ardor long absent from their time together… he'd slept… and then…?

Methos shook his head. She'd been gone when he awoke. Regardless of Watchers, he'd raced to the church… Surely she'd be there. But Darius had told him she was gone… that she'd left Paris… but he wouldn't say why. No matter how Methos had pushed over the years… Darius would say nothing.

The old priest did know something about what had happened… but he held his tongue as carefully as if he'd learned it in the confessional. And there was a sober sense about him these days. Methos didn't often go to see him anymore. Only when he knew neither Bancroft nor anyone else was about did he even try.

When he did… he usually sent a boy with a message and Darius would meet him at Notre Dame. Methos always wondered how Darius got there and back without anyone ever being the wiser. He'd asked Eleanor once…centuries ago, but she'd laughed and said nothing. She obviously knew… but she'd never say… no matter how much he'd tickled her and she had laughed.

Now, Methos did not think Eleanor laughed anymore. She was dead inside, and there was no joy left in her as if it had been ripped away. Why had she come in… was it only to say good-bye? She had wanted something from him. But what? He had no idea. Very well… if he was nothing to her… she was nothing to him. Never again would he open himself up to be cast away. No more immortals… ever.

Monsieur Combfrey asked about a book, and Methos gratefully filed Eleanor's brief visit away with thoughts he no longer wished to consider. If he was dead to her… then she was dead to him.

Darius watched Eleanor pack from the corner of his eye. She'd only been here a few days. He'd hoped to have time to tease her back into her old self. But she wouldn't stay.

He'd been dismayed when he'd seen her. She was a shell… going through motions. There was no life left in her. What had he done to her?

Carefully he considered telling her. But if he did… what would happen? Would the long controlled darkness of Kae Dhun rage and claim his life at last… before he could explain? And if he died now… would she know what to do? How to help Alisaunne? Darius remained silent and closed his eyes. He could not look at her… not now. He dare not. He'd made his choice eight years ago. He'd chosen Eleanor's life over the future. Of what use was any future he'd argued… if she perished before it came? "I will give my life instead!" he'd pleaded… and the deal had been struck.

But Eleanor had paid a heavy price. Her face and her movements still betrayed that price. She closed the bag and looked around… dragging it with her into the other room. He followed… still guilt encompassed him and he crossed to the window to stare out once more… not trusting himself to look at her.

He mumbled a few pleasantries… then when she crossed to hug him goodbye… he nearly broke down. He held to her and wanted to lean down… kiss her hair… beg her to stay. But he couldn't. Not yet. There were things he still needed to do.

Even as she left, he tried to lift her spirits… tell her he would come… but she didn't believe him. And then she was gone.

He stared down at the taxi and waved when she looked up… but it wasn't as he'd have wished it. Had what he'd done truly been for her benefit? Or for his? Had he been jealous of her choice of Methos after all of these years? Or had he truly wanted only to test the theory… find the answers? After the taxi left he considered the artifacts.

Studying them had led him to make the choices he'd made. Time to be rid of them!

He'd speak with Cassuis about keeping them. Perhaps the old Roman had an idea. At any rate… Darius wanted them gone from his sight.

He'd sent Alisaunne to a boarding school in this last year now that she did not need him on a daily basis… but he'd have to make some further arrangements for her future if he left… if he vanished. He had to be certain she would be cared for and educated… even if he were no longer here to guide her steps. He crossed to leave… there was much to do.

His eyes rested on the envelope Eleanor had asked him to mail. Thoughtfully he picked it up and noted the name and address. As it wasn't yet sealed he pulled the note out and read it.

Edward,

I cannot explain, but I must go. It still hurts too much to see you, or talk to you. I will be in Angola on a medical mission if you wish to write. The address is enclosed. Please promise me you will watch over Darius while I am gone. He does not seem himself, and I fear for him. Perhaps another time we can discuss what lies between us.

Eleanor

He'd mail it for her, he thought idly replacing the note within the envelope. There was nothing there that Methos did not need to know. He knew his friend well enough to know that Methos would not follow her… not yet, at least. Darius smiled, it might give him time to set everything right once more. Placing the envelope within his robes he turned toward the door.

Darius stumbled against the counter near the door and waited a moment while he regained his equilibrium. There wasn't much of the old strength left… and he'd begun having dark dreams… as if the forces of darkness were gathering. He straightened moving his head slowly from side to side as he concentrated. No one would notice… he could manage to hold it all at bay for just a while longer… just a little longer. The girl was almost ready to be on her own. Soon she'd be old enough to survive no matter what. Already she was healing if injured. Already he'd taught her so much… things she'd likely recall only when the time was right… but she was the key to any immortal's attaining the prize… a prize that was different from anything any of them had ever considered. Alisaunne was what the Ancient Ones had created with his help… and the use of Methos and Eleanor as the means.

Darius had to move swiftly to counter any dangers lurking for her in Paris… and one of those dangers was Grayson. The priest needed to know what Grayson was up to. He'd have to insert a spy into his old friend's organization and check things out. There were also his other students… especially the mortal ones who had to be protected. It would take time… perhaps a few months… but then he was leaving… and no one and nothing would stop him!

If she killed him then… it would be fine… Eleanor would survive… and she would know that he had lied to her… that Methos had never hurt her… that she and the ancient immortal once known as Death were meant to be together… if that was their choice.

Smiling thoughtfully, his mind filled with his plans for the future… Darius descended the stairs and opened the tunnel entrance. He had much to do. Whistling a snatch of an old dance tune… he closed the hidden entrance and passed into the darkness of the tunnel.


	64. Part Three: The Well of Despair, Chapter...

_This chapter begins the third of four sections for this story._ --elle

**Part Three: _The Well of Despair_**

Frameless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget.

  
  
from **_Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)_ **by Don MacLean 

Chapter 61

Niebos, Greece

Phillip slapped his gloved hands together and cautiously watched the tableau below in the village. The dirt spilled from his hands in clouds of dust. Slowly he stood.

He'd told Pietros earlier. "Contact the news media. Make certain they bring cameras… the more the better. Just leave me out of this."

The village elder had bowed, "Of course _patron_."

Now, while Phillip remained quietly out of sight, just another villager attempting to bury his dead and make repairs… Pietros gave interviews and displayed the bodies of the thirty-four dead commandos. He regaled the media with the corroboration of the others of how they'd been attacked and managed to repel the invaders. Phillip just hoped it worked.

With enough media blitz, the Watchers might fear to return. The survivors had withdrawn to a fourth helicopter with their captives. And while they'd know Phillip and Ursa remained… they did not as yet know of the others who survived.

Phillip turned and saw tiny Denara gazing soberly at Luke's grave. Phillip squeezed the child's shoulders and was rewarded when she glanced up at him… with old, old eyes. "She saved me. She leapt up and met that blade meant for me. She gave them her body… but she gave me her quickening."

Denara held tightly to Phillip's hand while tears streamed down her dirty cheeks. "Let's go lass. We're finished here." She nodded and let go of his hand while they both turned toward the house and then re-clasped his other hand.

"I hadn't had one in a very long time. I'd forgotten how it felt," the child immortal whispered as they passed Ursa's solemn form. The giant glanced at them and then followed them into the house where they surveyed the damage from Luke's quickening and the battle with the second unit.

Phillip cursed himself mentally for having let Amanda go… If Amanda had been here… they would not have gotten the children. Now he needed to follow the trail… and rescue them. He had promised those children that they would be safe… he had failed them… and he would not fail them again.

Angrily he kicked at the remains of his desk computer. That wouldn't be of any help. He'd have to hope the PPC hadn't shorted out… if it had… he'd have to purchase another one on the mainland if he got a chance. He sorted through the wreckage attempting to find it. Holding it up he snorted and dropped it. It was toast. Behind him he heard Denara directing Ursa where to move some of the furniture and where to stack the pieces which would need to be discarded. Something in her tone of voice sounded a great deal like Luke.

Phillip motioned toward the bedroom wing. "I'll be back." He walked slowly and looked in on a sober Valeraine and on Nick… restrained once more in his bed.

"How's he doing?" Phillip asked as he watched Nick writhe back and forth.

"I gave him a sedative… but he's fighting it. I think it may be losing its effectiveness." She was curled up in a chair and he knew she'd been crying.

"You handled it well, Valeraine. No one could have handled it better. You kept him alive despite his attempt… and Nestor is still trapped."

"But there may be nothing left of Nick, now." Tears fell once more.

"Listen to me. We all knew this would happen eventually… even you. Nestor's quickening is old and powerful. He's a master of temptation and knows what buttons to push in any of us. That Nick fought him so long… is a minor miracle in itself. You did what you had to do." Phillip crouched beside her and smiled. "We've won… at least for another day."

"But they'll be back!"

"Not while the news media is focused here. We'll have time."

"What about us?"

Phillip shook his head. "They don't know about you two. My people will hide you both amongst their numbers. Even if the Watchers watch the island… they'll not find you… nor ever see you. All you have to do… is keep him safe. Can you manage on your own?"

"Why can't one of you stay?"

"They know of us… even Denara. If one of us remains… they will be back. We'll leave and then vanish. You have the hardest job lass. You have to protect the devil himself and keep him chained. You might have to kill any number of mortals to do that… I," Phillip chuckled, "only have to rescue four children from men who might wish them harm." He pulled her to his chest and smiled wanly. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"But will it be soon enough?"

"One can only hope. Now," he said with encouragement, "go see about some food… a bath… whatever you need. I'll watch for a while. After we leave… you won't be able to leave his side."

Valeraine nodded and left.

Phillip leaned over Nick observing the young immortal's thrashing. Finally he spoke. "You might as well save your strength and listen to me."

Nick gradually stopped moving, he turned his damaged face in Phillip's direction as if he could see him. He drew back his lips and hissed.

"No sense being so angry. You tried… and you failed," Phillip remarked calmly. "She will not kill you… no matter what you try. You are trapped here… she will keep you alive for millennia if it takes that long. She will make certain you live… no matter the cost."

A rumble sounded from within Nick's throat as he twisted in the restraints.

"The more you persist in this behavior… the less comfortable you will be. We've tried kindness… and we will continue to try it. You will not win… not while one of us who knows what you are draws breath."

Phillip straightened and then took a seat in the chair. He'd promised to watch… He'd give Valeraine all the time she needed. This would not be easy for her… but Phillip had no other choice than to leave her here with Nick.

Nick's stub of a hand slapped down on the mattress. Within the restraints he had little movement… but he managed.

"Yes?" Phillip smiled. "You wish to converse?"

The hand slapped down once more.

"Will you try to behave?"

Yes

"Are you lying?"

There was a long pause… then two slaps. No

"Now why don't I believe you? Oh… sorry… Should I believe you?"

Yes

"I shall consider it. Now… shall we discuss books?"

No

"Well certainly not movies… how about music?"

Yes

"Ah… afraid my sound system has been destroyed… but perhaps we can manage a radio."

Yes

"But no news of the outside world."

No

"Then we understand one another… perfectly." he reached over and dialed a music station. Strains of classical music filled the air. Settling back once more Phillip kept watch.

-----

****

Paris

Avril Mischkov slammed his cell phone into the wall. "Imbeciles!" he screamed. Then took a long deep breath. Getting angry at the failures of his people would not help. He couldn't be everywhere. He'd had to delegate authority to his best people. But their results of the past twenty-four hours had been mixed at best.

Now… Mischkov needed to compose himself before reporting the successes to Rawlins and admitting to the defeats. "We shall keep trying."

In Paris the squad had found only the young male immortal at the hotel. Even now he was in medical and Mischkov would interview him before sending him on to the compound. He needed to discover where the woman had vanished. When MacLeod had met with Amanda and given his people the slip the day before… he'd assumed they might be meeting up with the others. But that hadn't happened… so the squad lying in wait at the hotel had been withdrawn. He'd left a Watcher in the lobby however… in case someone returned.

He'd seen no additional movement at _St. Julien's_… visits by either immortals or mortals… but he'd left a Watcher there… Sooner or later, he felt that someone would come.

In Berlin they'd refound the missing Reagan Cole… but she was beyond their reach at the moment. Her very public use of a gun had made certain of that.

The two who'd vanished in St. Louis were as yet unfound. But they couldn't hide forever. He had people out watching all airports and bus stations in a five hundred mile radius of St. Louis. They'd not get far.

On that Greek island… Mischkov had lost three helicopters filled with his best men. The story of the assault on the private island was all over the news and support was coming in from around the world to assist the villagers. Two warrior immortals… only one of whom he had identified… and one child had escaped capture. He'd only known of one warrior… and none of his private records gave him any idea as to who the other one was. Now… he dared not make another attempt on the island for a while.

Mischkov glared at the muted television with footage displaying the dead bodies of his retrieval squads and the angry faces of the villages. He snorted… as if he'd been after them! Whoever the immortal was who'd taken the others there… he had these people shilling for him… protecting them all…. while he remained out of sight. If the Watchers didn't already have Methos… he'd have thought it was him, so slick the entire defensive operation had been.

He needed to discover who this was and why they had been so prepared for the assault. His men had picked up on Amanda at the Athens airport and their research in backtracking her had led them to consider this island. Without Amanda there… Mischkov had thought that they could easily deal with Ursa. The man had no mind! Rawlins had suggested that they just kill him, grab the children and bring them back. The adults were negligible. Now, however, Mischkov considered there was someone else involved with this group. He'd have to do some additional research to figure out who he might be.

The phone rang. "Yes," he barked. "I'll be right down." It was time to interview the immortal they held here. The children would be taken immediately to the compound once they reached Europe. He'd have to leave their interrogation to Rawlins, and hope that his boss knew what questions to ask.

Avril Mischkov glanced in his office mirror and smoothed his thinning hair, then straightened his sleeves. He would look impeccable and fully in control. Taking a deep breath, he smiled with confidence, flipped off the lights and headed to medical.


	65. Chapter 62

****

Chapter 62

Washington DC

Amber pulled into a mall parking lot and parked in an outer spot. She smiled as she turned off the ignition. "Guess we're here."

Katya nodded and looked around. "I didn't notice anyone following us… so I guess we're safe for the moment."

"How long do we have before we meet with McCormick?"

Katya glanced at her watch and then at the newspaper opened to the movie times. "He said the first matinee performance… so… about two hours."

"Should we stay here or walk the mall?"

"I'd prefer to stay out of sight as long as possible. Just pull your hat down over your eyes… settle back and try to catch a little rest. I'll take the first watch."

Amber did so… and was soon in an uneasy sleep.

-----

Amber felt Katya shake her arm. "Time to go," the elder immortal said. Amber nodded and wiped her eyes. Adjusting her ballcap over her head, she glanced in the visor mirror to be certain of her appearance and then nodded.

The two women climbed out, locked the car and headed to the movie theatre box office. Amber bought two tickets for the first matinee performance of **_Fatal Dance_** and the two entered, purchasing popcorn and drinks before entering the dimly lit empty auditorium and finding seats in the center of the back row.

"Now we wait," Katya murmured.

They didn't have to wait long. Both women felt the tingle that they hoped was McCormick. When he rounded the partition and glanced up at them… they warily relaxed… but kept their hands on their swords. He climbed the tiers and sat next to them.

"Well I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"The bad," said Katya darkly.

"I've spoken at length with the young woman who evidently has been watching me for years… under my nose. She has no idea what's going on… but she has had suspicions for some time. She told me there was an old project that was discontinued about ten years ago called **_Sanctuary_** where certain immortals were kept from the game. She thinks it may have been re-started."

"Sanctuary," breathed Amber. "That's not good."

"You know of it?" Matt asked.

Amber shook her head. "Only a little. My teacher entered that program voluntarily. He's dead now."

"And the good news?" Amber asked.

"Well… she's willing to help. As far as her bosses are concerned… I'm in my office."

"Can we trust her?" Katya had not stayed alive so long by trusting anyone.

"For the moment. Now then… Did you hear from your friends in Europe?"

Katya nodded and told him what she knew. "The center of all this may be Europe… that means… if we can prevent any more immortals here from being snatched or shipped… we might put a kink in their plans."

Matt smiled. "To that effect… I have convinced my watcher to get me some information about her organization. With a little luck… we can do our own investigating."

"At least if they get us again… we'll go down fighting this time," Amber murmured as the movie started. They'd remain for a half-hour… then leave. Amber pulled her feet up onto the seat below her and slumped in the seat sipping cola and eating popcorn. Next to her… Katya and Matt continued to whisper. She'd let them make the plans. Whatever they decided was fine with her.

-----

Roberta Collins downloaded the information from her Watcher connection and made the copy to disc. As soon as it was ready… she popped it out of the slot and into its case, then slipped it into her jacket pocket. Step one complete.

Glancing around the cafe… she quickly erased her information from the computer and prayed no one would backtrack the security leak to her. She'd used a double-blind… but she still wasn't certain it would work. As she left the cafe… her cell phone buzzed in her coat pocket. When she glanced at the number… her heart sank… it was her superior. "Hello," she answered.

"Where are you?"

"I had some errands to run on my lunch hour…"

"Word is McCormick slipped out while you were away from your desk. What do you know?"

Roberta counted to three before she dared speak. "He said something about a meeting with some local law enforcement about the St. Louis case. I didn't think it was until later, though. Perhaps he went to lunch."

"You're paid to know!" the voice snapped.

"What's the problem. He'll be back by four… He has a department meeting scheduled for then."

"What if we lose him?"

Roberta shifted the cell phone to her other ear. "If he meets with another immortal… he'll be noticed by the other's Watcher. I don't see a problem. McCormick is very methodical and very careful… not to mention regular as clockwork." She raised a hand to hail a taxi.

"You need to stay in closer contact with him."

"We've been over this. He's a field agent. Until and unless you can get someone through the academy and assigned to him as a partner… which you've been unable to do in the last several years… I might add… you will have to be satisfied with my being his secretary." She opened the cab door and climbed in holding up a finger for the cabbie to wait a moment. "I do what I can. I can't follow him the way you want. It just won't work. I have to go." Shutting the phone off, Roberta gave the driver the address and settled back in the seat shaking from anger.

Someone was turning Watchers into some sort of "Big Brother" operation. True… there had always been an element of that within the fold… but not like this. She didn't like what was happening to the organization to which her grandparents and parents had given their lives. She was going to take it back from these fools now in control… or die trying. Trouble was… she might well die.

Twenty minutes later when the cab dropped her at the entrance to the mall… she had calmed down. Roberta had learned early on that Watchers sometimes died in the line of their jobs… it was an unfortunate consequence of being so closely associated with immortals. One of her grandfathers had died in the line of duty before she was born. He'd followed his immortal into Word War II and died in battle.

Glancing around, she entered through the glass doors, heading for the children's clothing store she frequented. Matt had told her to only do what she might normally do on a lunch hour… lunch… a few errands. She'd picked this store. Entering she flipped through a stack of boy's jeans then crossed to a rack of little girl's dresses. She selected one of the right size, purchased it and left… noticing the young woman now sorting through the boy's jeans. Matt had told her that he or someone else would get the disc… Roberta prayed that the young woman was Matt's associate. She hadn't gotten a good look at her… she didn't want one. Clutching her purchase tightly, Roberta headed back to the mall entrance to hail a taxi for her return trip. Just another day in the life of a public servant… or so she hoped.

"I may not see you for a while, Roberta. Thanks for your help. You're a true friend," Matt had told her earlier. Roberta settled into the backseat of the taxi and let a small smile cross her face. It sounded like a great epitaph for her tombstone… "She was a true friend." Surprisingly… Roberta Collins was at peace with that thought.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Julius Wilderman was not exactly certain when things had spiraled out of control. He could not quite recall when his little experiment in dream research had become something else entirely… but it had. At first it had been exactly as he could have wished. Lots of willing subjects whose dreams had helped him fine-tune his theories and develop his programs to decode thought and dreams into data a computer could read and understand. They had come by the dozens… willing young men and women.

And then Rawlins had told him of immortals whose lives lasted for generations… and whose dreams would elevate his research into the stratosphere. He'd win the Nobel Prize for his research.

"We could see history through their dreams." Rawlins had explained. And at first… that's the way it had been with the first few they'd brought in. Wilderman had been curious that they were drugged.

"They are not exactly volunteers. Trust me… you do not want an unwilling immortal on your hands. They will kill you where you stand."

So he'd accepted his unwilling subjects as he'd accepted his willing ones. And one by one he'd mapped their dreams… and fine-tuned his programs.

"Can you insert them into a pre-planned scenario?" Rawlins had asked curiously last year. "Can you set them into a dream they've had… and map their responses to that?"

Wilderman had nodded. "I think so."

He still didn't have that quite right. And now Rawlins had killed one of them. Wilderman still shook from his helplessness at that moment. Just when had he signed away his soul? His hands shaking, he lifted the bottle of water to his lips and sipped. His stomach burned within him… he needed his acid reduction pills. He'd taken so many lately he'd run out and Rawlins had yesterday put the facility on lock-down.

"No more going home at night. There're accommodations for your people on an upper level."

"Some of us have families. We are not prisoners!" Wilderman had argued.

"We are too close. I cannot chance discovery."

"Discovery by who?" he'd sputtered. "No one knows that this project exists!"

"We have to be certain there are no security leaks," the blonde man had said curtly and then dismissed Wilderman… from his own office.

Julius Wilderman took another sip of water. He'd made a deal with the devil… now he wondered how to survive. This project of his was looking increasingly deadly… for him and for his team.


	66. Chapter 63

****

Chapter 63

Paris

Alisaunne had slipped through the streets of Paris all night, reveling in her new-found freedom. From doorways and from under bridges she'd watched the denizens of the Paris night slowly make way for the day people. She'd purchased fruit at an open-air market and wandered down streets both familiar and strange.

Once… noticing a mortal looking at her strangely, she'd fingered her blades in anticipation. But the man had merely tipped his cap to her and murmured something like "_La Belle_," before turning and continuing on his way. Alisaunne had relaxed and crossed the street… making certain she became lost in the growing crowd.

When she'd found herself near the hotel once more, she'd stood across from it and tried to feel if the others were there… if Ian were even now looking down from the window at her… or had Duncan returned from wherever he'd gone. But she felt nothing… and she was not yet ready to return. Likely they were out looking for her. Turning… she chose a new direction and continued to explore.

Growing up, she'd often done this. Sometimes she'd simply needed to get away from the mundane control of others and be on her own. She'd raced up and down narrow streets as a child… seeking… she never knew what. She'd always felt she'd know it somehow when she found it. But she never had.

Passing a bookseller's stall she considered stopping. It was at one like this that she'd found **_Blade of the MacLeods_**, the book that had led her to Duncan. She'd been instantly infatuated with the cover that day… and the name… MacLeod… as if it were something she should remember. But in the delicious sharing of the purple prose with her friends… she'd lost that thought… and recalled it only now.

Deep in one coat pocket was **_Candide_**. Having only now gotten it back after so many years… she'd been reluctant to leave it behind… even for a few hours. Thoughtfully, and a bit curious, she glanced around, noting a store that catered to rare and old books… **Shakespeare & Co**. Slowly she entered, smiling at the elderly woman behind the desk.

"May I help you?" the woman smiled.

"I have an old book and was curious if it was worth anything," Alisaunne held out the Voltaire. She had no intention of selling it… but she did wonder at its worth.

"Ah… a first edition. It's not in the best of shape… the cover is very worn… but the pages seem intact. But I have several." The woman handed it back.

Alisaunne smiled to herself, recognizing the game. The woman was interested… but did not wish to appear so. "I was only curious if it was worth anything," the immortal said replacing the book in her pocket and glancing around with a bored expression… and wondering why this place should feel familiar to her… she could never recall ever being here.

"Perhaps _Mademoiselle_ would like to see about trading for it… I could offer two perhaps three books of her choice?" The woman smiled a little too eagerly.

Alisaunne shook her head and wandered back through the door to the street. Across the intersection she saw an old church not far away. Once again the feeling of familiarity came over her. Shoving her hands into her pockets she walked towards the church and onto the spacious grounds. Again she could not recall ever being here. This had not been her usual area when she'd manage to lose the sisters at _Sacre Couer_. Vaguely she recalled though that Duncan's barge had been near this area.

Alisaunne wandered the grounds until she found a bench. Sitting there, she pulled out the small bag of fruit and began to nibble on the pears. She was tired. She'd not slept at all last night… having been too excited to be on her own for a bit. It had been far too long since she'd had private time like this. She stretched out on the bench and let the morning sun fill her with warmth. She could hear in the distance children laughing and birds singing and the sound of water splashing from street fountains. It was so restful. She felt like she never wanted to leave.

A chill went over her. Opening her eyes she stared at the man who'd paused near her. He met her gaze, with an odd smile and took a step towards her.

Alisaunne waited.

When he was close enough… she kicked out with one booted foot landing between his legs and connecting solidly. For a moment she felt a slight tremor in the earth. Ignoring it she flipped to one side and lashed out with a fist to smash his face. Blood spurted from his broken nose. The man fell to his knees.

Alisaunne smiled coldly while within her was a cackle. She reached down and dragged the man by his collar behind her while she headed for the small cemetery to one side of the church. It was overgrown in that area… and they'd be hidden from the casual view of most passersby. She tossed him to the ground over a grave and squatted down beside him.

Visions of flaying him alive filled her… and the earth seemed to protest once more. The man looked at her fearfully.

"Please… " He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and attempted to staunch the blood about his nose.

Alisaunne inclined her head left then right… watching him all the while. "Please what?"

"Don't kill me."

She glanced about the cemetery. "It's holy ground…" she whispered. Immediately she calmed.

"_Holy ground is sacred. We cannot fight there… nor harm others… mortal or immortal._" Duncan's voice seemed to whisper on the wind.

From within came another voice, "_Ignore that… slice him open like rotting fruit_."

Alisaunne pulled her _tanto_… her ceremonial knife… out and held it between her hands. She grinned. "Why are you watching me?"

"Not you… just the church. Your kind come here to talk. I was just here to make a note of it." He sat up and grimaced as he wiped his face.

"My kind? What do you know of my kind?" she continued thoughtfully… letting the edge of her blade slice into her palm. She watched the blood well up and the cut heal. Slowly she rubbed her bloodied palm across her face.

"When you stretched out on that bench, I saw your sword. I knew you were an immortal. But… we only watch… we don't interfere."

"That is a lie." Alisaunne reached out with her knife hand to slice his face open. He screamed and fell back… holding one hand to the cut. Again the earth seemed to groan and tremble.

Alisaunne looked about… feeling another immortal's swift approach. A small hand clutched hers and another grasped her chin and turned her face. Her eyes widened in recognition. "Ellie?" she whispered.

"Come with me now," Ellie pulled her along and into the church.

Behind them the Watcher continued to press the handkerchief to his face and whimpered from the pain. Finally he rose and entered _St. Julien Le Pauvre_. But there was no sight of either immortal. The women had vanished as if they had never existed. Thoughtfully he left. He needed medical attention and he needed it now. He'd make his report later.

-----

Alisaunne followed Ellie through the church and through the opening in the of the storage room. Once it was shut… Ellie turned on a small flashlight and led the way down into a cavern.

"Watch your step… they're uneven," the tiny immortal said and shown the light on the steps. "This way." Ellie pulled Alisaunne along into another tunnel and out into what looked like a storm drain where water rushed by. "Hurry!" Ellie led the way across the drain and into another small tunnel. From there the ground rose in a gentle slope until another opening appeared. Ellie motioned her through it.

Alisaunne stood in a grove of trees surrounded by high walls. Overhead, screening covered the sky, and the tree limbs spread beneath it. In the center was a small spring where water bubbled over a stand of rocks.

Ellie led her to the rocks… and motioned for her to sit. Alisaunne did so. She felt lost in a dream. Ellie dipped a cloth under the water and then softly wiped Alisaunne's face… washing the blood away. She smiled warmly into her eyes. "There… that's better." Then she ran her fingers through Alisaunne's dark hair… loosening some of it from the braid. "Look at you. You have your father's eyes. I didn't notice that before."

Then she began to wash the blood from the young immortal's hands. Alisaunne looked at her numbly and then glanced around. "Where are we?"

"Home… at least what I've always called home," Ellie said with a smile. "Although it's not… My home I mean. I grew up in Scotland a long time ago." She rinsed the cloth in the water, spread it on the rocks to dry and sat back on her heels as she seemed to gaze at Alisaunne in wonder.

"I've been here before," Alisaunne said as she gazed up at the budding tree limbs. Long ago."

"I'm not surprised. Come along," Ellie laughed as she rose and motioned to Alisaunne to follow her up some narrow stone stairs that seemed carved from one of the walls.

Alisaunne hesitated. "No… I'm not allowed up there."

Ellie laughed again, and Alisaunne thought she heard bells tinkling on the wind. "It's all right. He won't mind." She held out one small hand.

Alisaunne thrust her hands into her coat pockets and felt the Voltaire. Idly she pulled it out and rubbed her fingers over the cover. When she saw Ellie's solemn glance at it, she held it out to her. "Is this yours? Are you my mother?"

Ellie chuckled and reached for the book, opening it and slowly turning the pages. "Apparently so." She pulled out the envelope. With pursed brows she tucked the book under one arm and pulled the photo out.

"That's you…" Alisaunne said. "Who are the children?"

Ellie ran her fingertips softly over the snapshot and then brought it to her lips as she kissed it with closed eyes. "My children," she whispered with a sob. "Oh… not really mine… but the only ones I ever really raised. Darius helped me save them from the Germans during World War II." Tears filled her eyes. She turned the photo over and glanced curiously at the date on the back. "That's not my handwriting. And it's certainly not the date the picture was taken." She shrugged and replaced it in the envelope, put it back in the book and held it out to Alisaunne.

"Why did you abandon me?" Alisaunne asked as she reclaimed her book.

Ellie shook her head. "I didn't. I never knew. There is a huge blank spot in my mind about you… when you were born. I have no memory of any of it."

"Then how do you know?"

Ellie glanced up the stairs. "Darius wrote me a letter before he died that I only recently received. I'll show it to you. Come!" She turned and climbed higher.

"He wasn't my father?"

Ellie halted and turned. A sad smile crossed her face as she shook her head. "No… not physically."

"Dr. Pierson then?"

Ellie nodded. "Yes," came the soft admission.

"How? Duncan said we don't have children… ever."

Ellie sighed. "We don't."

"Then how? Why?"

"I don't know for certain… Now come along." She climbed the stairs to the small landing and opened the door. "Come on…" she smiled.

Alisaunne hesitated and then began to climb.

-----

Derrick had been slightly startled when Ellie had raced from her room… thrown open the door and left… slamming it behind her. When he'd followed her to the door he'd seen her crossing to the hidden entrance.

"Wait for me… I'll be back."

Derrick closed the door. "Sure. I'll wait here. Never mind how bored I am. Never mind how much I don't want to be here. I'll wait!" he'd shut the door again, a little more forcefully than he'd intended and returned to the computer game. It had been on his mind for the past few hours.

He became lost in it until he heard Ellie return and open the door… softly beckoning to someone. He leaned back in the chair and raised one eyebrow when Alisaunne entered. She hadn't changed much since the last time Derrick had seen her eight years ago. But he noted there was a hard edge to her he hadn't noticed that day.

Alisaunne looked around. "Shouldn't the shelves be filled with stuff," she asked idly.

Ellie nodded and laughed. "Yes, they were filled with things once… long ago."

Alisaunne stared at Derrick. "Who are you?"

Derrick said nothing. He watched as she shed her black coat. He could see the swords hidden within it. A knife was still at her waist. She folded the coat and lay it on the counter as she wandered through the room. As she glanced into the other room, Ellie set about heating some water. Derrick just watched. He was very uneasy around this immortal. Waves of danger seemed to assault him.

Alisaunne came closer. When she saw what was on his computer she laughed. "Duncan plays that game. He's always playing it." She leaned over to get a better look.

Derrick shut the laptop off and closed the screen. "I'll be downstairs." He rose and shivered in the coldness of the air about her. Brushing past her he flung open the door and descended the stairs, grateful to be away from her. He was halfway down the stairs before he recalled his sword was still upstairs… and leaning against the wall.


	67. Chapter 64

****

Chapter 64

Berlin

Reagan sat cuffed in the office… she pulled the cuff tautly and sighed. When the door opened and the inspector entered she crossed her legs and regarded him calmly. "Well… do the references check out?"

"_Ja, Fräulein_… it appears you have a permit and were indeed on a case."

"Then I can go?"

The inspector opened a drawer… pulling out a massive sandwich. Folding down the paper he took a bite as if considering her request. "Tell me again why you discharged it in the mall?"

Reagan shifted position, crossing her long legs and sighed. "I was being followed. I needed to create a diversion… one that would bring the authorities. It was all I could think of." She shrugged and smiled winningly. "I'm not really too experienced in this line of work yet." The references she'd given him were for an identity of a fairly new bounty hunter. "I've been very patient." She pulled at the cuffs… the links clinked in the effort. "Are you certain I can't go? I said I'd pay a fine and any damages." Reagan smiled once more, even daring a couple of helpless eye-battings.

The inspector nodded and took another bite… chewing slowly. "Tell me again who was after you?"

Reagan glared at him momentarily and then smiled as she leaned forward. "Organized crime. They were out to stop my investigation into the kidnapping and possible murder of my client's daughter."

"And your client is?" He smiled at her benevolently.

"I'm not at liberty to say," Reagan answered for the fiftieth time it seemed like since she'd been brought in.

The inspector seemed to nod as he considered her answer. Finally he set the sandwich down and tossed her the key.

Swiftly she removed the cuffs and tossed the key back to him. "I can go?"

"Apparently. But you have a court date. Don't leave town."

"Of course not," she smiled rising. She ran one finger through a drop of Russian dressing that had oozed onto the desk's surface. "Mmmm!" she said licking her finger. "I might have to try one of those." She turned and left.

Reagan signed for her gun and effects at the front desk. Thankfully she'd not had her sword on her. She seldom carried it when on the job… preferring to elude challengers until the time and place of her choice. And because of occurrences like this where she had to deal with authorities.

"You just better have stayed put!" she muttered under her breath as she thought of Warren. Slipping out a side entrance, Reagan managed to pass down an alleyway and over a fence before making her way carefully to the hotel. She scanned the crowd on the streets carefully and the one in the lobby even more so before daring the elevator. Once on the twelfth floor, she descended stairs to the sixth and knocked the code on the door.

Warren opened it with a sigh. "Thank God!" he said. "I was so worried."

"I ran into some friends of yours and had to get arrested to avoid them. Let's go!"

"Go?"

"Unless you'd rather stay here."

Warren looked around the room. "Nope." He grabbed his coat and used the remote to shut off the television. "Where are we off to?"

"Southeast for the moment… Let's go." Reagan grabbed her things and left, descending through the stairwell to the parking garage. After quickly checking the car for monitoring devices or other additions… she unlocked it and climbed behind the driver's seat.

"Shouldn't we check out first?" Warren said as he climbed in.

"Hadn't planned on it." Reagan started the ignition and listened carefully to the sound of the engine. Nodding, she shifted into reverse and backed speedily out of the spot. Changing gears… she floored the gas and headed out onto the _strasse_. With a right turn… she was into traffic and they were on their way once more.

-----

Grace Chandel carefully inoculated another child whose tear-filled eyes made her smile. "There there," she whispered and chuckled as she held out a small piece of hard candy to the little girl curled in her mother's lap. "She may run a slight fever tonight. That is to be expected. Just give her plenty of fluids and love."

The mother nodded and left… the little girl in hand.

Watching them go, Grace gazed after them sadly. She always felt especially sad when working with children… and wistful.

"Wishing we had them?" John's soft voice sounded from nearby.

Grace turned. "It's not to be. Is that it?"

"Looks like it for today." He rubbed his hands together and looked through the window at the street. Around them both several of his mortal followers straightened the room and swept the floor. Grace sighed. She'd gotten the permits to do inoculations for childhood diseases in this impoverished area only yesterday. Yet many had come… as if the word of the free health clinic had spread like magic.

John crossed to her side and picked up the tray of unused vaccine. "I'll refrigerate this. You rest."

"I'm fine… really." Grace smiled at him and rubbed her arms. "Although I am a little tired."

"It's been a long day. You should try to rest." He turned to hand the tray to one of the followers when the door to the mission opened.

Grace was immediately uneasy. The two men entered looking around.

"_Guten Tag!_ " John said and opened his hands in greeting. Almost immediately he was surrounded by his followers.

The two men gazed at all of them.

Finally one stepped closer and said in in English. Mr. Kage, Ms. Chandel… we need you to come with us."

John stepped back and looked about.

"Please sir… for your own safety. There is danger here and we need to get you away."

John spread his hands once more. "I'm a simple man. What danger could I be in? You have me confused with someone else."

The man shook his head as he glanced at the mortals. "For their sake Mr. Kage… _The_y are coming for you both… and _they_ will kill them to get to you."

The man held out a hand and exposed a strange tattoo on his wrist.

John stared and then turned to Werner. "Get everyone out of here, _schnell_. Make certain everyone is safe," he whispered in German over the protestations of several. "_Schnell_!" he encouraged. As they left… voicing their concern, Grace stood next to him and placed her hand about his arm.

Once the four of them were alone. The man spoke again. "My name is Aaron Hatchell. I'm your Watcher."

"And that means?"

The man shook his head. "There are those within my organization who are interfering in the Game. I'm interfering by talking with you… but I believe in you… and in what the two of you are doing. Trust me please. You are not safe here."

John shrugged, still pretending ignorance. "I'm certain all would be welcome here. I really have no idea…"

"You are the immortal once known as Kage… a mercenary, a bully, who first died in the year 710. You took the name John Kirin in 1975 and have spent the intervening years atoning for your centuries of crimes. You…" he nodded to Grace, "… are Grace Chandel… need I continue?"

"How do you know these things?" Grace murmured.

"Please… I will explain as we go… But for now… I need to get you away from here."

"If you know what we are," John said quietly. "You know we have nothing to fear."

"Even from those who would take your heads?" When the immortals reacted, Hatchell held out a hand and motioned them to follow. "Please…"

John met Grace's gaze. She nodded and still holding onto his arm, they followed Aaron Hatchell and his companion to the street and climbed into the back of the dark blue van waiting at the curb.

Once they were under way… Hatchell leaned forward. "I know this is a lot to take in… but I need to explain. My organization has watched immortals for centuries. We write histories of your lives. We have often felt that the lives you lead might one day impact for good or ill upon our lives. Your lives inspire us."

"And these others?" John asked.

Hatchell looked down and shook his head. "It has come to my attention that there are those within our organization who are jealous of what you have… who would learn what makes you the way you are, or who are anxious to control the outcome of the game. Friends of mine in Paris contacted me recently warning me of this fact. When I was told an hour ago to pull my watch off of you… and stand down… I realized my friends were right, and that you two were the next targets. I made the decision not to let that happen."

"These men you speak of," Grace asked suddenly. "Were they the ones who killed Darius in 1993?"

Hatchell closed his eyes and nodded. "Not the same men… those were punished. But like-minded men who've taken control once more. I refuse to let that happen again. Darius was a great loss… a very great loss." He leaned back at something said by the driver, then nodded. Leaning forward again he continued, "A friend of mine has an estate west of here. I'm taking you there."

"Holy ground?" asked John.

Hatchell shook his head. "Afraid not… but then… holy ground only keeps you safe from your kind… not from ours. Darius was killed on holy ground."

"But you think we will be safe there?"

"For a bit. They'll figure it out… but I should have time to fully explain all I know. Suffice it to say… I have a name for you. Duncan MacLeod."

"Duncan?" Grace laughed. "You know Duncan?"

Hatchell shook his head. "No… but a good friend does. If anything happens to me… you need to find Duncan MacLeod. My friend says he's in Paris."

"Won't he be watched as well?" John asked with a smile.

"He would be… if they knew where he was. My friend was once his Watcher. He's retired… but they stay in touch. MacLeod knows as much about what's going on as any immortal… If anything happens," Hatchell held out a piece of folded paper. When John took it, he continued. "That's my friend's name and telephone number. Get to Paris and call that number. Ask for Francis. It's a code name. He'll know it's you. An hour later… watch for a bearded man using a cane at the _Cimetiere de Passy_. He'll know both of you on sight. His name is Joe Dawson."

"And we can trust this man?" Grace asked.

Hatchell nodded. "Memorize that number and destroy the paper. Ask Joe what Henri's daughter's name is. If he says Estelle, then you've the right man."

"Who is Henri?" Grace laughed.

Hatchell chuckled, "I have no idea. I know this is all cloak and dagger… but I was told to give you this information first… and quickly. I'll explain more fully at the estate… and hopefully… I will accompany you to Paris. This is just in case something happens to me."

John opened the paper and memorized the number. He passed it to Grace who did the same. Silently she tore it into small pieces. Hatchell held out an ashtray. Grace dropped the pieces of paper into it and watched as Hatchell set fire to them.

She took a deep breath and leaned into John's side as he put an arm about her shoulders. Thus they sat quietly for the remainder of the ride.


	68. Chapter 65

_This is the first of two chapters that will be posted today._ --elle

**Chapter 65**

**Paris**

Burt's suggestions to Joe had seemed a little too gimicky… but Joe had agreed to them.

"I want control of this Joe," Burt had said. "I'm the professional. We are talking your life, Amy's life, possibly the lives of the twins. If you have to meet with some of them… this is the way it goes down."

Joe had laughed at some of it… but he'd understood. Burt had done this sort of thing most of his adult life. He knew how to make even the most cliché instructions sound as if they would work. Joe had ceased to argue. Maybe… just maybe… some of Burt's ideas would work… and Joe and his Watcher buddies could manage to find out what exactly was going on… and stop it.

"Under no circumstances," Burt had reiterated, "do I want Amy in any further danger, nor do I want anyone else served up on a platter. You got that?"

Joe had saluted meekly. He'd had lunch yesterday with Pierre and Michel. They'd met at one of their regular haunts… laughed and joked in case anyone was watching… played a bit of Boccé ball afterwards in the park… and generally appeared to be relaxing… all the while passing information amongst them. His friends had been burning up the telephone and electronic mail lines to old Watchers and to older current ones. With any luck… something would break open soon.

"We know from Amy's reports… Rawlins seems to be at the center of all this. He's vanished… but there are bound to be transactions that will tell us where he has taken the immortals." Pierre snorted as he laughed and pointed at Michel's ball.

"You don't think they're dead?" Joe replied nodding.

"Honestly, my friend, I do not know." He threw up his hands and leaned over to pick up his ball, carefully tossing it along the lawn to click against the others. "Ahh!" he said and stepped back. "Avril Mischkov is his enforcer. That man was always dangerous. I wanted to blackball him years ago when he was proposed… but I was _convinced_ to simply abstain. Now I wish I'd voted."

"That's who Amy reports to."

"Yes… and if I were you my friend… I'd tell that protégée of yours to take a long vacation if at all possible… or perhaps develop the flu." Michel laughed.

Pierre passed them both the wine pouch and they each took a sip. "For me, my friends, I am eager to call these vermin to a council and take them to task. It is high time some of the old ways were brought back!"

"Not too many of them," Joe laughed. "I nearly died at one of those."

"Ahh… yes. I had forgotten. How far we have come when your misdeeds may prove to be the salvation of all we hold dear." Pierre's gentle laughter was joined by Michel's. Joe joined them… but he knew the laughter… while it sounded real… was false for all of them.

He raked his eyes over the surrounding crowds and shook his head. "Either I'm getting blind or there's no one on us today."

"That business in Greece earlier. I think they lost a number of players in that. They may be short-handed at the moment. We are not nearly so important as the immortals."

"Perhaps… but I intend to be careful all the same," Joe had aimed his ball down the strip and smiled as it swiftly took out the others but did not go too far. He gestured. "I don't like to lose!"

-----

Duncan lifted the curtains from the window and stared out onto the view. So far he'd seen nothing to indicate anyone had picked up on that.

He tried Ian's cell phone one more time… but still it rang… and no one answered.

"You're worried," Amanda said as she stepped from the bathroom, a wet washcloth in her hands. She wiped her face.

"I'm worried. I told them to stay there." Duncan let the curtain drop and turned with a grim smile. He was shirtless still and Amanda wanted to fling the washcloth away and run her hands over his chest and shoulders and… She turned with a shake of her head and a ragged breath as she stepped back into the bathroom.

"Why don't we just stay here? Maybe he has the cell phone off? Or on vibrate?" she turned and arched her eyebrows with a teasing grin.

"Somehow I don't think so," Duncan grinned, reaching for a shirt to pull on. He buttoned it as he watched her apply lipstick and use a comb on her short dark hair. Her black bra seemed to invite him to unhook it once again. He turned. "Later," he grinned as he let out a long breath. It was time to focus on his charges.

"What about Joe?" Amanda re-entered the room and pulled on her white sheer top… tucking it once more into her black skirt.

"I have a number for him if I need to call him. He said it's a new cell… He'd only given the number of it to Methos… and he's never called."

"I meant… couldn't Joe check on Alisaunne and Ian?"

"No!" Duncan shook his head forcefully. "If they are safe somewhere… I don't want to expose them. Joe doesn't really know about either of them… although Ian might be on their files. Damn that girl!" he suddenly snapped. "She's been hinting about getting out… I wouldn't put it her past her to have slipped out and Ian's had to go look for her. But still… he should have his phone!" He tucked his shirt into his jeans and picked up the long coat… carefully slipping his _katana_ into its place.

Amanda pulled on her lightweight black jacket… secured her small hand-held weapons on her person and picked up her bulky coat. She slung it over her shoulder and struck a pose. "It's a little warm this afternoon for the overcoat… don't you agree?"

"Don't be funny!" he said… then grinned at her. Reaching out to her, he drew her in and teasingly kissed her. "We get through this in one piece… you and I are going to have a long and very serious conversation."

"How long?" Amanda asked breathily.

Duncan chuckled, "Oh… ten years at least."

"Only ten?"

"Let's not make it too serious," He kissed her for a long time… wishing there were time for more… finally he released her.

She bit her lips as she ran her hand along his jawline. "Gotta love a Boy Scout!"

Duncan gathered his small bag with the laptop and checked about the room. "That's it… let's go," he said and took her arm as they left.

-----

**__**

Within the Dream

Gina de Valicourt moved back and forth on a swing… her legs reaching for new heights. For the life of her… this made no sense. Oh, she'd swung before… but never on one whose ropes were intertwined with gaudy hot pink flowers. Behind her… she sensed Robert pushing her forward and then pulling her back with the rope.

She found herself laughing… and wondered why? Life had become a series of beautiful paintings and she and Robert were caught in the scenes. They were happy… but where was the reality of being together… of touching one another… of making love. Every time she sought to end the dream and reach for him… pull him to her… run her hands along his chest… and lift her mouth for his kiss… the dream ended and the nightmare began again.

Robert lay on the floor of the chateau, a pool of blood seeping into the carpet about his head.

Was it even still attached? Was he dead? Almost immediately Gina found herself racing through the familiar corridors of their home… seeking him… seeking the feel of him… but he was gone.

"Robert?" she screamed. "Robert?" Before her the dark figure aimed a gun and she saw the muzzle flash as her head snapped back from the impact of the bullet. A red darkness covered everything.

Gina swung once more… back in the dream. This time… she feared to look at Robert. Perhaps if she merely relaxed into the swing… he would remain with her. She could sense him… he was here… behind her… where she dare not look.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Rawlins stared at the dreaming pair. This was his only pair of involved immortals. He refused to use the term married. They weren't human… they were some sub-species without moral fiber. They could not be married. But these two had a long and loving relationship… and their fear of losing the other… kept them pliantly within the dream-state. They were the most stable of all the pairs, or so Wilderman said.

Rawlins backed up a step and stared into the next cubicle at the elderly scientist arranging the pair they would test tonight in a scenario. They'd chosen two that Rawlins knew to be, if not bitter enemies, at least antogonistic. He eagerly awaited the results. If one beheaded the other within the dream… what would happen? Rawlins smiled. The more they knew… the more easily they'd know how their minds worked… and once they knew how their minds worked… they could begin to see what would happen when they attempted to alter the mortal mind. Was immortalitly a state of mind?

His first sponsored experiments years ago had been on the physical… and other than their remarkable healing… Rawlins' scientists had found nothing in the blood… nothing in the DNA… nothing in the physical that answered the question of immortality. Therefore, it had to be somewhere else. That's when he'd happened to hear about Wilderman's dream research. And here at last Rawlins thought he had his answers.

"Mr. Rawlins?"

Rawlins glanced up at the voice of the lab assistant.

"Dr. Wilderman is ready to begin."

"I'll be right there," he said and turned back to stare at the de Valicourt couple… head to head… linked by a series of wires… dreaming. He smiled, curious as to what would happen if he tried to place them facing one another in a gladiatorial scenario. He snorted. "Like as not… you'd drop your sword, kiss the girl, and prepare to die." Rawlins placed his hands behind him and wandered away.

Behind him… the matching but still separate lines of the couple's readout spiked.

-----

**__**

Within the Dream

Robert dared to jump onto the swing finally and wrap Gina within his arms and legs. "I love you!" he whispered…

She leaned against him and sobbed, "Robert… hold me!"

He tried… but he felt only empty air.

Once more he was on the ground standing behind the swing and pulling the rope. He held the swing far back, refusing to let it go.

"Gina!" he called, as if she were a thousand miles away, and reached to touch the frilly laces of her gown and the ribbons of her bonnet. His fingers yearned for hers. But the rope slipped through his hands and the swing moved forward.

"This isn't real!" Robert, Baron de Valicourt muttered under his breath. "This place is not real… but you are!" Gina was real… she was the only reality in this world of flat color… with no smell, and no sound. Gina was real… even if the world was not.


	69. Chapter 66

_A short extra chapter for today._ --elle

**Chapter 66**

**Paris**

Ian slowly climbed out of the blackness, realizing it wasn't death he was returning from so much as simply a drugged state of unconsciousness. He'd died… he was certain of that… He knew how it felt. But he'd evidently revived while drugged. Now the voices around him began to make sense. Ian strove to make no move… no flutter of an eyelid… no change in breathing pattern that would alert them he was aware of anything.

"Mr. Mischkov, I think you should see this," a male voice spoke, intelligent… the sound of x-ray film photo bending… slapped against something… the sound of a switch thrown. "See… his right arm must have been severed at some point."

"Interesting. I didn't think lost appendages grew back." Older male, a guttural accent… perhaps German… Russian… cold… deadly.

"It may not have been entirely removed… perhaps held on until it healed."

"Hmmm… wonder how good his arm is?"

"We could find out."

Mischkov seemed to rumble slightly as he considered it. "No… I leave that for Rawlins. Any word on the woman?"

Another voice, also male, younger, "No sir. Neither she nor MacLeod has returned to the hotel."

"If we didn't know he was with Amanda…" Mischkov mused, "I'd say he and the missus took off for a little R & R and left the boy to fend for himself."

Laughter from all of them.

Ian tried not to react.

"He should be out of it enough to answer questions." That was the doctor Ian thought.

"Excellent," Mischkov's voice was closer… perhaps standing over him. "Oh look… he's playing possum." More laughter.

Ian's heart sank. Evidently his readings or however they could tell anything about him were betraying his consciousness.

Mischkov continued. "Do we have ID on him yet."

"Just what was in the room… and they all seem to be aliases."

"Nothing from the Chronicles?" Mischkov again.

"Not yet."

"Likely as we suspected. MacLeod's student. Probably young. Less than fifty. Check those files." Mischkov ordered. Someone left… Ian heard a door close.

Ian could feel warm breath on his face as a soft seductive voice spoke. "Now then, who are you?"

Ian bit his tongue from the attempt to say nothing.

"Increase slightly," Mischkov said.

A moment later Ian felt a sense of euphoria. He opened his mouth and let out a great sigh.

"Better" Mischkov said. "Again… what is your name?"

For a moment Ian struggled with the concept and then said blankly, "John MacLeod." It was the English form of his first name… and MacLeod was what Mac had suggested to him if he ever needed to give a name somewhere.

"People know me… They'll know to leave you be."

"Are you so certain it won't create problems… People who want to hurt you… decidin' to take it out on me?"

Duncan had laughed. "We'll take that chance. Just remember. Don't give that as your name unless you've no choice."

"Another MacLeod… how interesting." Mischkov muttered. "Didn't the late Connor MacLeod adopt a boy? I'd thought he was dead. Check on those files."

Ian felt the breath on his cheek again. "Now then John… who is the female?"

Again Ian bit his tongue… once more he was flooded with the sudden sense of euphoria as his inhibitions floated away. "Ali… Alice." He let out, the final "s" sounded like a long hiss.

"What is her last name?"

"MacLeod," Ian managed… not certain how much longer he could maintain the lie. Already this voice was his friend… and he wanted to help his friend.

A hand stroked the side of his face and his hair. "That's right John… I'm your friend. You can trust me. Where are MacLeod and the female… Alice?"

Ian relaxed. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "I don't know." Beneath him was a chasm of darkness… Ian Daffyd floated above it momentarily… then sank eagerly into its cold embrace… letting the darkness close over him so that the voice was small and tinny and far… far away.

"I'm losing him."

"He's going back under… We can try again later…"

All was silence… and nothing.

-----

****

Paris

Melanie Pryor beat her fist angrily against the glass of the front door of _Le Blues Bar_. The place was locked up… and no one was about. Stepping back she stormed… growling under her breath. She stomped one foot twice and then both of them several times as she attempted release her anger.

"What's wrong?" said the soft male voice tinged with the barest hint of amusement behind her.

Melanie turned to see Joe Dawson standing behind her… evidently concerned.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?" he brushed past her to unlock the door.

"They took Delano."

"Who? Another immortal?"

"Watchers!" she hissed noticing he'd faltered almost imperceptibly as she'd tossed her accusations at him. "You set me up! You set him up for whatever this plan of yours is."

Dawson opened the door and stood to one side gesturing her inside.

Melanie entered and rounded on him as he was shutting the door… hearing the satisfying sound of a slap as her hand connected with his face.

Gently he massaged his cheek. "I deserved that. Now have a seat and I'll try to explain."

-----

An hour later, Melanie clutched the coffee cup between her hands. When Dawson offered a whiskey refill… she shook her head.

"You really think they won't kill him?"

"Melanie, I honestly don't know. All I do know is that a lot of immortals have gone missing lately. Some are friends of mine. Hell, Cassandra is one of the missing. The only way to get a lead on where they might be was to deliver an immortal to them, and then try to follow. We know they took him to Headquarters… the medical area. We think he may still be there."

Melanie changed her mind about the drink and reached for the bottle, pouring a shot into the mug and setting the bottle back down as she thoughtfully drank. "You could have told me."

"Not a chance. We didn't know how you'd react… and we needed you to be honest with them… your reactions needed to be on the money."

"Still… why Byron?"

Dawson shrugged. "Opportunity. One of my people was being pressured. I needed to set someone up… you happened by… and we went for it." Dawson sat back shaking his head as he slapped the table. "I didn't like doing it. But it had to be done. We have to find where they are holding the others… and stop this."

"I agree…" Melanie took another drink. "You say they have Cass too?"

"We think so. We did some backtracking and think this may have been going on for about six years. There are several references to Watchers being pulled off of immortals suddenly and then the immortal vanishes. Or the immortal just vanishes and the Watcher Chronicles are silent. My people are working to get at everything they can."

"But if you've known about this… why not do something…" Melanie shook her head.

"We are doing something. But none of us knew enough about what was happening to start putting it together until recently when I began to talk to people about what I'd learned. The more I and my other _retired_ friends spoke with one another and then with all the others we knew… we only then began to get a clearer picture. The stories we were being told… did not add up."

"So what should I do?"

"Go back to London as they told you. Stay in contact from there. We could use another pair of eyes from inside."

"And Delano?"

"We pray he's important enough for them to keep. And that leads us to the others."

Melanie lay her head on her upraised hand. "And if he's not important to whatever they're doing."

Dawson had no reply.


	70. Chapter 67

****

Chapter 67

Location Unknown

Micah tapped along the metal walls… listening to the hollow sound as it echoed and rumbled. Glancing at the others, he smiled to see Madrigal with both the smaller boys' heads in her lap. They were still recovering from the drugs.

Madrigal gave him a weak smile as both her hands stroked the dark hair of her two young charges. "Any ideas?" she asked.

Micah stood back, placing his hands on his hips. "A ship I think. We may be in a small cargo hold of some sort."

"Where are they taking us?"

Micah shook his head as he flung himself onto the rags strewn on the floor of their cell. He drew his legs up before him and tried to think what Amanda would have done in this situation.

__

"You are all small… but you can be clever. Kenny has lasted over eight hundred years. Valeraine the same. You can too… but you must be clever."

"We have to seem to be cooperative," Micah said at last. "If we are… we might get a chance at freedom. Can you swim?" He grinned at Madrigal. "I mean… if we get to the deck for some reason… we could make a run for it. After all… we'd only drown." When Madrigal chuckled, Micah grinned.

Chou rubbed his head and sat up… groaned and lay back down.

"Do you think they gave all of us the same dose?" Madrigal asked as she rubbed Chou's back.

"Likely. They probably cut it some from whatever they give adults. That's why we woke first."

Denis moaned and shifted.

"They're coming around." Micah said, "That means we should have company soon." Madrigal nodded. Micah noticed a frightened look in her eyes. "Madrigal!" he said. "Concentrate! We won't let them hurt you… but we have to work together."

A clang at the steel door let them know someone was outside. The wheel in the door turned and two men… one with a basket of food… the other with a machete entered.

"They are awake… at least two of them are," the man with the food said. He set the basket on the floor and kicked it over to them. The other man glared and flexed the machete.

Micah shook his head slightly. Now was not the time.

The two men backed up and shut the door. The children could hear it clang as it was locked.

Micah crossed to the basket and pulled out a sandwich… giving it a sniff. "Smells all right… but we should be careful. Who wants to eat first?"

Chou raised his hand. "I will. I still feel sick. It can only kill me."

Micah smirked as he tossed him the sandwich, then rummaged though the basket for something to drink. There was one large bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and sniffed. Grimacing he replaced the cap. "It's in the water… something bitter."

Chou nodded as he bit into the sandwich and chewed. "Next time it will be in the food."

Micah sat back against the wall next to Madrigal. "Yeah. I hate dying of thirst. Very uncomfortable."

"What worries me," the girl added, "is what they will do to us while we are dead." She shuddered. Micah put an arm about her shoulders.

"Thing is, we may look like children… but we aren't. We need to use that… remember." The boy smiled as the others nodded. They weren't children… they were just very small.

-----

**__**

Within the Dream

Kenny was at the bottom of a well. He knew it was a well because he could feel the damp stones all about him. They were slippery and mossy. He'd tried numerous times to climb them… without success. Above… in the small circle of blue sky… were odd cotton candy clouds that raced by as if blown before a hurricane.

He was alone. And there was no way out. If he were taller, bigger, stronger, he could get out… Kenny was certain of it. All he needed to be was older, stronger, more skilled. But he was clever. Kenny stood in the center of the well and gazed skyward… also letting his eyes trail up and down the walls… seeking a handhold… a foothold… one he could leap to and hold to.

The buzz of another came closer and closer.

Kenny snarled… turning and turning… trying to find the other… but he was alone in the well. His feet splashed in the shallow water and he was wet and cold and tired… yet he could not sit… and he could not sleep.

"I feel you!" he screamed. "Where are you?"

His voice echoed back from the stone. Once more he ran his hands along the stones and sought a way to climb up… there had to be a way… All he had to do was figure it out.

-----

Greg Powers felt the smooth steel of the room's walls. They were cold… like an operating room. A single light hung from a ceiling too far away to see. Beneath the light was an operating table… and table covered by a sterile cloth. He flung back the cloth and stared. Greg picked up the implements of his trade… scalpels… bone saws… probes… forceps… retractors. Turning them over again and again… he handled them as if holding them for the first time.

The instruments felt oddly strange in his hands… bigger… colder. He looked down at the boy now strapped to the table. Had he been there before? The boy struggled in the restraints… blonde hair… "One of us!" Greg said. He lifted the bone saw and lay it thoughtfully across the boy's neck.

Such a huge sharp instrument for so tiny a neck. All he had to do was apply pressure.

The boy's eyes opened and stared blankly up. The mouth moved and an old voice rumbled out. "I feel you! Where are you?"

"I'm here," Greg murmured. "I'm here… but where is here?" He stepped back away from the operating table and tried to peer into the observation glass. Ghostly figures held out hands… thumbs down. Ghosts with no faces.

Greg stared at the bone saw in his hand and then back at the sacrificial lamb. It would be so easy. Why did he hesitate?

They were all killers. It was kill or be killed. This child was no different. All Greg had to do was take the saw and slice down.

He giggled. "The operation was a success… but the patient died."

He returned to stand over the boy. "Do you have a name?" he asked.

The boy stared about blankly and said nothing… as if he didn't see Greg at all… but he felt him.

Greg leaned over him and whispered, "You know I'm here… don't you. And you cannot find me." Once again he lay the bone saw on the boy's neck and sighed. Such a big saw… such a scrawny little neck.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"Well… What is he waiting for?" Rawlins stared at the monitor. "All he has to do is think he's killing him for it to be real for him within the dream… why does he hesitate."

"I don't know," Wilderman said truthfully. "You told me these two were antagonistic… and would likely fight… but I don't see it. They may or may not recognize one another. Or maybe they simply do not wish to kill."

"Damnit!" snarled Rawlins. "This is getting monotonous. Do something."

"What do you expect me to do?" Wilderman shrugged. "I cannot force their actions… I cannot program them… not yet. All I can do is present a scenario."

"Bah!" Rawlins tossed a hand in the air and stormed out.

Claire Romney reached to dial down the program.

"Wait!" Wilderman crossed to the medicine cabinet and filled a syringe with a liquid. Crossing to number 23 he inserted the needle into the IV and pushed the doseage. Wilderman smiled and stepped back to observe the monitor. "Insert program Gamma 7."

-----

**__**

Within the Dream

The walls of the well vanished and Kenny was in a darkened room. A single sword was in a stone and a white light shone on it.

The boyman strode forward to pull the sword from the stone. It was held tightly. He put both hands on the sword and pulled once more. Again he failed. Climbing onto the stone… Kenny leveraged himself to pull and straighten with all his strength. The sword was his by rights! He was the cleverest! He was her favorite! He was the one! The sword came free in his hands.

Kenny could feel the other all about him… and then he saw him… sitting on the floor with his back to him. Such a fool… Kenny grinned. "There can be only one!" he snarled and swung with all his might.

-----

Greg shook his head and rubbed a hand along the boy's innocent face. "I will not kill today!" he said softly. "Not today." But the blade remained on the boy's neck… slowly Greg applied pressure. "Maybe I will kill you… today."

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Both subjects leaped within the restraints… pulling against them and writhing. The needles of their printouts went crazy. For a moment… if they had been on the same printout… they were identical. Then one flatlined and the other returned to what passed for normal.

"Interesting," said Wildrman stroking his chin. "Not exactly what I would have expected."

"No quickening released," Claire commented.

"Yes, well no heads were actually taken. Technically they are both still alive."

"But one has no brain activity while the other's is…"

"I know… the other's is… different… interesting." Wilderman chuckled. "We must try this one again. Select another set of subjects. We need to see if this happens the next time."

"Yes doctor," one of the assistants said and left.

Claire shook her head. "Shall I continue to monitor?"

"Yes… yes… yes!" Wilderman yelled. "We must have all the data we can gather. This may be the breakthrough I needed."

-----

**__**

Within the Dream

He was taller. He was older. He was stronger. He laughed. Easily he could reach the stones… easily climb out. He was the one! Dropping the unneeded bonesaw into the water… he began to climb… First… up on the operating table… then he'd shimmy along the cord of the light. By then… he'd be high enough. This would not take long… not long at all. He glanced at the observers in the gallery… their hands pointed up. He was the one!


	71. Chapter 68

****

Chapter 68

Paris

Derrick's return to their rooms as swiftly as he'd left caused little in the way of notice earlier this afternoon. Alisaunne still sat on the chair looking confused and Ellie had seemed focused on her with wide-eyed wonder. Derrick had swiftly picked up his sword, grateful it was in his hands once more, and had retreated to the grove feeling a little silly about being so protective of it. It was just a sword… but it was his. And now it was safe in his hands once more.

He'd spent several hours working out with it, swatting at bushes and beheading flowering plants… in case Ellie wondered why he'd returned for it. His injured arm seemed to scream at the effort he put into the two-handed strokes. But he, at least, felt better. Finally Ellie'd crept down the stairs, sitting on the fourth one from the bottom as if it were something she might have always done. She observed him quietly.

"She's asleep. Poor thing… I think she walked all night."

Derrick continued his routine… purposely ignoring her. After several minutes of continued silence… he stopped and gave an exasperated shout. Turning, he crossed to the steps and sat on third one from the bottom… his long legs still on the ground… and lay his head in her lap. "I don't like her here. You shouldn't have brought her."

"I thought you were lonely and wanted someone else to talk to especially when I'm not here." She ran her fingers through his shaggy damp air.

"Not her." he groused. Derrick wrapped his arms around Ellie's waist. "I want to leave here. I don't like it here."

Ellie laughed lightly. "So you keep saying. But I can't leave yet. Not yet." There was long pause… then she asked, "Do you remember Alisaunne?"

"She was there at Adam's other house years ago. You and Adam left with her and that boy. You were hurt when you came back. You were hurt because of her."

"She didn't hurt me, you know. I just thought you might have remembered her from before."

Derrick considered her words carefully. "I knew who she was the first time I saw her. I knew her name and that she was special. But _I_ don't know her! And _I_ don't trust her!"

Thoughtfully Ellie continued. "Why not?"

Derrick shrugged with a great sigh. "She doesn't feel right… it's like it's her… but it's not her."

Eleanor closed her eyes thoughtfully. Derrick's instincts had been very good in previous years… but lately… as the time evidently approached for his changing to immortality… he was consumed by doubts and fears, which seemed to color the way he regarded the people and immortals he met. She'd brought the girl here for safekeeping… to prevent the death on holy ground that she feared the girl was contemplating. She'd brought her here because she wanted to know her. But had she made an error in judgment? "_Oh Methos_," she thought sadly. "_Where are you?_" for a moment she thought she could here war cries and the screams of the dying… and then it faded. Wherever he was… it wasn't here… and it wasn't with her.

She was as alone in this place… as she had ever been. She leaned forward to place a motherly kiss on Derrick's head and sighed. This place had always been Darius' great secret… Was it here that the ancients she and Methos had first seen in their visions years ago had stood? Was it here that they had lived… and in the end killed all they cared about? Or was this a remnant of some ancient holy ground that had remained holy. Darius had never said why the Ancient One had remained here… but in taking his head and his quickening… Darius had seen a need for his continued existence in this place. As he had been the guardian of the spring during his long lifetime… was she to be the next one? Or was it to be one of these children? The boy who held a few of Darius' memories… or the child he'd helped to create… stolen… and then raised.

Eleanor had been tempted to open Darius' letter to Methos… but so far had not… as if fearing that the words contained there might make her lash out again. And she needed to be calm. If she was to reach Methos who was apparently lost somehow in his memories of a thousand years of barbarity and bloody conquest… she needed to be calm… and in control. The irony of their exchange of situations was not lost on her. For two hundred years… she had been the one all too often lost in dreams of carnage and murder. The love of Methos, Phillip, Darius… and two small orphaned children had pulled her out of it finally. Now… the shoe was on the other foot. She and these two children, each of them somehow tied both to Darius and to her, needed to find a way to rescue Methos… and bring him back to the present. But unless she discovered where the Watchers were keeping him Eleanor doubted that there was any way to really reach him.

She glanced upward and considered the immortal Alisaunne. She couldn't really think of her as her child… Eleanor had no memory of her other than their brief association eight years ago. Even knowing from the letter that she was this girl's mother did not seem real. Her children were Miriam and Joshua… and Derrick… the children she'd raised… the children she loved. Alisaunne was just an immortal with an odd aura about her.

Alisaunne's presence was slightly different from any Eleanor had ever known… There was a touch of something old in her… something that had once been akin to darkness… and if Derrick were to be believed… something evil. Yet Eleanor wanted to help this girl somehow. If she were indeed some harbinger of the end of the game… Eleanor wanted that end to be a positive one… one that did not involve all their deaths. Had that been Darius' hope? Had he hoped to shape Alisaunne somehow to be a force of good?

"I just wish I understood why he never told me," Eleanor whispered to the growing shadows. "I just wish… he'd trusted my judgment for once."

-----

****

Outside Berlin

Shots rang out as John and Grace hurried from the _chateau_ back out to the van. The safe-house had been under attack for the past fifteen minutes.

Hatchell had insisted that they go. "We'll keep them busy here. You two must get to Paris."

"We can't leave you here to die," John had insisted.

"Listen to me. Get to Paris. Find Dawson. End this!"

In the end they had gone. John had driven the van at top speed out of the attached garage… and had outrun a car following them… but both he and Grace knew it was likely only a matter of time before they were picked up again.

"I'll need to dump this one." John's expression had hardened through some of this… as if he'd tapped into resources he'd long forgotten.

Grace watched him thoughtfully… but said little. When he pulled off into some woods and parked, she finally whispered. "It's still in there… isn't it… all the old ways."

John nodded sadly. "And everyday I promise myself I won't give in to it. Suddenly I'm faced with a situation that unless I do… you may die. And I wonder if I can stand by while that happens."

"I'm not helpless, John. I have a sword and I can fight if I need to. I've told you that."

Lacing his fingers with hers he pulled them to his mouth for a gentle kiss. "Shall we?" he smiled.

"Together," Grace replied.

The two immortals alit from the van and headed the edge of the small forest on foot. Overhead, they thought they could hear a circling chopper.

"Let's hope they can't see the van," John said as he looked up with worry.

"On the other hand… it they don't see it on the road… they'll know we're here," Grace countered.

Kirin nodded his head. "We need alternate transportation… and in a hurry."

They waited beneath the trees for the circling chopper to move on… over the wider expanse of trees on the far side of the road, then made their way toward the smoke of a small farmhouse, which bordered the stand of trees.

"_Guten Tag_!" John called to the man of the house and explained they needed to borrow a vehicle.

The man looked at him quizzically and then at the chopper in the distance. He motioned them inside. "_Polizie_?"

"_Nein_," John said, shaking his head and holding out the keys to the van hidden in the trees, and a handful of euros.

The man snorted and pulled out a set of keys for his old truck. He smiled as he dropped them into John's hand. John grinned and gave the man the keys to the van and the cash. "_Danke_," John said. Evidently this man had been watching entire scenario and some idea as to what was happening… if not the truth. He also had some idea that he could get something out of this situation. John didn't mind… as long as it got him the man's truck.

"_Sehr gut_!" the old man said grinning broadly as he held the keys up.

"_Danke_," added Grace for good measure.

The man's wife handed them some wrapped cold sandwiches and a large bottle of home brewed beer.

Checking the skies once more for movement, John pulled Grace quickly out to the old truck.

"This looks awfully iffy as far as reliable transportation goes," she said doubtfully.

"It'll get us out of the area… climb in."

They pulled out of the farmyard and turned back the way they had come… toward Berlin. When Grace looked at him curiously, John Kirin grinned. "They won't expect this. Trust me… I spent most of the last century remaining invisible to law enforcement. I still remember how to do this." He winked at her… and she knew he was fine.

-----

****

Paris

"Well?" Mischkov was not pleased.

"We apparently lost them about five miles from the _chateau_."

"Fools!" snapped the enforcer. "I'm surrounded by fools. Find them… unless you'd like me to retire your unit."

"Yes sir… I mean no sir… I mean…"

Mischkov ended the connection. He stared out the window at the broad lawns of Watcher Headquarters. How deceptive they were in their peaceful grace… how calm… how serene. As if he were the human embodiment of the lawn… Avril Mischkow breathed deeply and evenly… until he achieved serenity once more. He tapped the fingers of his right hand on his smoothly waxed desktop… and considered his next more.

The children were on their way. He could do nothing else on that front. The island in Greece was being watched… So far no one had seen anything. _St. Julien Le Pauvre_ had a twenty-four hour presence. If any immortal showed there… he'd know about it. Dawson was being watched by his young protégée who would inform Mischkov of any immortal contacting the old man.

The loss of Kage and the Chandel woman was negligible. They would turn up. They could be acquired at a later date. Rawlins was curious about acquiring them… a matched pair… a recent one. Evidently he was curious as to how devoted to one another they might prove to be.

MacLeod and Amanda had yet to turn up… but they had her previous companion Cory Raines on ice on the medical level… along with the other two. One more… and they'd transfer them all to the new facility. If one looked at the big picture… they were doing well… very well. They'd have them all soon. After all… this game of the immortals had been going on for millennia… what were a few minor setbacks in the grand scheme of things.

He reached for his intercom, "Reneé… hold my calls. I'll be busy for the next half hour."

"Yessir."

Turning off the intercom Mischkov rose and carefully removed and folded his coat. Unbuttoning his shirt and unfastening the expensive cufflinks, he snapped the shirt before laying it on his coat… as if to freshen it. Mischkov opened a lower drawer, removing a battery operated fire starter and a knife. Sparking the starter several times he grimaced and passed the knife through the flame until he could sense that it was hot.

Then he began slicing shallow cuts in the skin along his arms… feeling sweet release in the pain… and focus. These could not be deep cuts… he was at work… but the heat of the knife compensated somewhat for the lack of deep cuts. At one point he sat down heavily in his leather chair and began to pant harshly. He wanted more than just this… but it would have to do for now… it would have to do.

Thirty minutes later… an impeccably dressed Avril Mischkov checked on messages, chatted companionably with his secretary, and descended to medical to check on his acquisitions.


	72. Chapter 69

****

Chapter 69

Baltimore, MD

The three immortals checked into a low rent motel and went to work decoding the computer disc Roberta had obtained for them. Matt worried that his secretary would run into some problems with her Watcher superiors… but she'd assured him this was her choice. That given his survival or that of herself… she'd choose his survival… but that she didn't think it would come to that. He wondered, though, if he'd ever see her again.

Katya had little sympathy for the young woman. "If she is a part of this organization… then all of them need serious therapy. We and our lives are not fodder for some historian's dissertation."

Amber had chuckled. Of the three… she'd had prior knowledge of Watchers from Connor… and she recalled what he'd said of them once.

__

"A bunch of namby-pamby voyeurs is what they are. They stand to one side and watch and wait for us to fight… and then they make notes about it."

"Have you told many about them?"

"No… you're the first… and I tell you only because I want someone to know of them when I've gone… someone who wouldn't be a threat to them… and roar off thinking they'd been insulted and preyed upon. I want someone who knows me… and could talk with them… tell them a little more about me than just what I had for breakfast the day I died… or the wine I bought to seduce a certain duchess in 1622." He'd laughed then… with that distinctive laugh of his. He'd learned of them by accident about a hundred years before he'd died… and had promptly ignored them… up until the day he'd approached them about Sanctuary.

Amber could still recall his voice on the phone that day. "_Tell no one about this place I'm goin' to. They wouldn't understand girl… they wouldna understand. But I'm weary… and I canna go on… not now… not today. I don't know how my old friend Ramirez managed for two and a half thousand years… I cannot manage another day… and I'm less than five hundred._"

Rachel had meant a lot to him. Likely more than he'd ever have admitted to anyone. Her death, following on the heels of the others… Brenda, Alex, John… had crushed the life out of him. He'd seen the Watchers as his saviors… a means whereby he could rest and come to grips with his losses… his ghosts and his demons… and then return some far off day… a new man once more.

But it wasn't to be. One day… Amber wished to find Connor's young kinsman Duncan MacLeod… and ask him about Connor's final moments… and why he'd killed him. She understood the way of the game… and Connor had told her never to hold grudges or seek revenge… "_That only gets you killed,_" he'd said. "_You have to keep your temper… and focus on what you want out of the situation… heh… heh… heh… and how best to get it_."

"There!" she suddenly said as something flashed over the screen. "That's the place we have to go to."

"An old school in upstate New York?" asked Katya with a laugh. "Why there?"

"I think that's where Sanctuary was. Connor was in New York when he called me before he vanished. And he was in New York when he died."

"You believe we may find some answers there?" McCormick asked.

Amber nodded. Even if there were nothing there, she wanted to see the place where Connor MacLeod had spent the last years of his life.

Matt nodded agreeably. "Then New York it is. We leave first thing in the morning."

-----

Amber could not sleep. Matt was snoring softly in one bed… Katya was asleep in the other. They'd figured one room… two beds. But Amber couldn't sleep. Curled in a chair by the window, wrapped in an extra blanket… she stared at the darkness.

--------------------

__

Boston 1784

"Lift your arm… turn it and thrust forward… rest your weight on your forward leg as you lunge," His hand traveled over her arm until her arm held the saber as he directed. He kicked one of her feet back a tad. She nearly fell. "Balance… it's all about balance." His face was next to hers… his voice in her ear. "Now shift."

"And should I be kissin' the Blarney Stone at the same time?" Kathleen Conroy laughed. She turned and kissed Conor's cheek… then executed the move as he pulled away laughing.

"I think you may have been born kissin' that stone," he laughed in that staccato laugh she'd come to know so well. "Now again… and do it right this time."

"But ya said I should always be surprisin' my opponent," Kathleen teased as she assumed the position once more.

"That's with your opponents not your teacher."

"Pity," she laughed and executed the move flawlessly once more. Connor had been a customer in her da's pub not four blocks from the Common… just another customer until the day she'd died. She'd been beaten and robbed of the receipts… When she'd awakened and returned to the bar… mortified that she'd failed her da'… Connor had been there… and the look on his face as he'd first sensed her immortality… was one she'd never forget. He'd looked at her with such sadness… as if it were the end of everything… not the beginning.

Kathleen had handled the truth of her immortality as a grand adventure. "To see the world… to see time pass… nations rise and fall. I can go anywhere. Be anything."

"Only if you keep your head," he'd told her then. And thus had begun the training. For the past six months she'd been serving drinks at her da's pub at night… as always… and during the afternoons… learning to use… of all things… a sword.

"Most of us… at least those of us who survive… are male. Likely because men have always been more aggressive and willing to fight to survive… while women usually aren't. It's important you not be helpless… even if you don't wish to kill… you must be able to. You're smaller… lighter… but that also means… you can be faster," he'd told her as the lessons had increased in difficulty and complexity.

Kathleen had also met Sunda Kastagir… Connor's African friend and immortal before he'd taken ship and left Boston. "If you are ever in Africa… look me up!" he'd called from the rail of the merchantman. Someday she just might.

"There will come a time when you have to move on… whether you wish it or not," he'd said recently. "Before someone realizes you're not aging."

"I won't age at all?"

"You will always be young and beautiful."

"Am I?"

"Are you what?"

"Beautiful?"

Connor had looked at her a long time and then finally had nodded. "Aye… beautiful. But you and I are not about that… even in fun."

"Why not?"

He'd taken her hands and sat with her a moment. "Immortals fight to be the one. We can't become too closely entangled with anyone… as we might have to fight each other someday… and kill them. As bad as it is to love a mortal, and see them grow old and die… and I've done that and willna do it again… I won't let one of us in either… not that way. I don't want to love you… and face havin' to kill you someday."

"But yar friends with Kastagir?"

""Well… there are friends… and there are friends," he'd laughed. "We enjoy a drink together occasionally… but we both know we might one day have to fight… and we face that. I have a kinsman… another student… also a MacLeod… that I spend time with occasionally… but it's the same. You have to accept that Kathleen… and not let anyone in… ever. Don't love one of us… and always… always… always… be on your guard."

--------------------

But it was a hard thing to live without love… and a harder thing to live without trust. In the last two hundred and twenty-seven years… Amber Kathleen Conroy had come to know that all too well. Gazing at the shadowy forms of her sleeping companions, she was hit again by that need she'd always had for friends and family… and a sense of community.

"Ya wanted it too, Connor… I know ya did. Ya envied Duncan because he could make immortal friends and love immortal women… and though ya pushed us both away… ya wanted it too. Is that why ya died? Because he could do what ya couldn't… He could forge friendships… that would last across the centuries… that might defy the Gathering." she lay her cheek on her upraised knees and closed her eyes… finally finding sleep.

-----

****

Paris

Duncan carefully observed the people he saw hanging about outside the Hotel. While he saw nothing that alarmed him… the Highlander was still cautious.

"What now?" Amanda shifted in the passenger seat. "Dawn will be here soon."

"Wait here." He climbed out and headed for the public telephone on the corner, swiftly dialing the hotel number and asking for room 773. When there was no answer. He hung up. Next he tried Ian's cell phone again. This time there was a muffled "Hello". Duncan paused… saying nothing… and hung up.

Climbing back in the car he swiftly drove off.

"What happened?"

"No one's at the room… and someone other than Ian finally answered his cell phone."

"That means…" Amanda's voice trailed off as her worry increased.

"They've been taken. We need to contact Joe and see what he knows."

"Is that safe?"

Duncan glanced over at her and shook his head. Nothing was safe. He'd let himself be distracted with her… needing a time with her… and now… Ian and Alisaunne were gone. He'd failed! And Duncan MacLeod did not like failing.

"Let me call Cory. We can stay with him."

"No."

"Duncan… this is silly."

Duncan MacLeod shook his head. They did need help… but Cory had been seen with them. It might not be safe. The Watchers could be watching him… waiting for them to get back in touch.

He pulled over to another pay phone and glanced at her. "Give him a try."

A few moments later she climbed back in and slammed the door… her face ashen.

"Someone else picked up the phone?" Duncan asked as he drove off… selecting a new direction.

Amanda's hooded glare said it all. "I will have no qualms about taking a few mortal heads."

"I know the feeling."

"So… Joe?"

Duncan nodded as turned on to the _Boulevard St. Germain_ and became lost in the early morning traffic. "I'm afraid so… either that… or?" Duncan considered Ellie. If he returned to the church… would she be there again. "Let's get a room somewhere… I have an idea."

"Oooh!?" Amanda teased. "I like the sound of that."

Duncan chuckled. "I thought you might." He reached out and trailed his fingers in her short hair… and considered how to spend the day… until he could chance contacting Ellie.

-----

__

Within the dream

Alex Raven stared numbly at the bright white light over her. Around her men and women in surgical gowns and masks murmured unintelligibly. She tried to rise… but there were straps over her chest and head.

Reaching out she discovered she had no arm.

It was being passed from one figure to another and dumped into a stainless steel bowl.

"That went well," one figure laughed. "And she's already healed. What should we try next?"

Alex's eyes moved from side-to-side and a piercing scream sounded as she realized she had no arms or legs.

The light glittered off the bone saw as it was held above her.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"She's in severe distress."

Wilderman leaned over subject number 17 shivering uncontrollably on the gurney. He glanced at the peaking readouts and at the monitor showing her writhing in restraints.

"We must have triggered a nightmare of some sort. Let's pull her out and then link her to another."

-----

__

Within the dream

Alex stared upward at the stone walls which seemed to reach forever into the heights. A small patch of blue sky shimmered strangely above. Lifting her hands before her eyes… she stared at them wonderingly… and then stomped her feet in the shallow water… as if to be certain she was whole once more.

As she felt the other she stared down at the small boy whose blonde hair hung over his eyes.

"I'm too small," the boy said. "No matter how I try… I can't get out."

Alex looked at her hands… clutching them and unclutching them. They worked. She picked the boy up and shoved him up the wall toward a larger stone that seemed to bulge outward. "See if you can grab onto that and pull yourself out."

His fingers groped at the slick stones… finally grasping the edge of the larger stone and pulled himself up to sit on it. Slowly he rose and reached upward to the lip of the well's wall. "I'm still too small." He stood on tip-toe and jumped… slipping from the slick surface and landing atop Alex so that she fell into the water.

She sat up and cradled him in her arms. "We'll find away," she said. "We'll find a way out." Alex Raven rocked back and forth in the dampness and held the unconscious boy in her arms.


	73. Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Prague

"Wait here," Reagan said to Warren as she climbed out of their parked car. In the distance she could see the internet cafe opening. She needed to check with the others.

"Reagan?"

She hesitated and glanced at him before closing the cardoor.

"Bring me a coffee, please?"

She smiled. "And a raspberry Danish?"

Warren nodded. "I'm a tad hungry, too."

Reagan nodded as she shut the door and strolled across the street… able to hear the clicks her bootheels made on the cobbled surface. Old World towns still had some cobbled streets. She could recall a time when they were everywhere. Her .38 was hidden in her holster in the small of her back under her suede jacket… there was knife in each boot. Once again… she'd left her sword in the car. It just didn't work with this outfit… and it was too warm for the overcoat.

Peeling off the euros, she purchased a coffee and strudel and settled at one of the monitors… Keying up her account… she entered her passcodes to check messages. Katya's indicated they were headed north… and warned again to be careful. Stephen was headed west. He'd interviewed his Watcher but had left him behind. "Hope he doesn't talk," his message said. Duncan's said, "Stay out of Paris right now." Evidently Paris was a central area for many of these Watchers.

Reagan fired one back to Duncan, "Call if you need me." She sipped her coffee and nibbled at her strudel while searching news reports… hesitating at one about a commando raid at some Greek Island. "Wonder what that was about?" she murmured and then moved on to study one discussing a strange lightning storm in Rome a few days ago and an all-points bulletin for a young man who'd been seen taking a man's head with a sword.

"Maybe we should move in that direction for the time being," Reagan thought, wondering who was in that area.

If he were young… he might not know to take precautions and while Reagan was fully aware that appearances could be deceiving… it was more the fact that there had been witnesses that bothered her, than anything else.

Hurriedly, her mind made up, Reagan emailed she was headed south… used a wipe program to secure the computer from her activities… tossed her coffee and trash and headed for the door. Snapping her fingers, she grinned sheepishly and got back in line to purchase Warren's request.

Once at the car… she pulled out.

"Where to?"

"South," she said, "South."

-----

Behind them, in the internet cafe, a woman sat down at Reagan's vacated terminal and ran a few commands into the machine. She smiled and punched a number into her cell phone. "It's Barbara… I may have something for you." She gave the address and sat back pretending to utilize the computer while waiting for the others to arrive. With luck… they'd break the erasure codes and have an eye into the immortals' electronic communications.

When the team arrived and as the deal was being struck to remove this particular computer, Barbara was debriefed.

"I think it was Reagan Cole… at least it looked like her. She used the machine… tossed her coffee and food away… and then went back for another. That's what really got my attention… seeing her toss one coffee and then buy a second. Then I recognized her from the bulletins."

"Did you see the car she was driving? Or the direction she went?"

Barbara shook her head. "Sorry. I was attempting to take control of her machine before someone else used it. Other than a log on and pulling up the local news… I didn't do too much."

"Who's your regular assignment?"

"Stosch Balinkov. He's in class this time of day so I usually make certain he's there and then come over here for a break. His class usually lets out about now."

"Very good, get back on him."

Barbara had a slight spring in her step as she headed back to campus.

-----

****

Italy

From behind his dark glasses and from beneath his wide-brimmed hat, Phillip eyed the ships in the harbor. As he casually strolled up and down the docks he tried to sense the children. As yet, he'd felt nothing, despite his assurances that the ship he sought would come here.

In Athens, he'd learned with his payments to certain officials that a helicopter matching the description of the ones who'd attacked Niebos had landed aboard a cargo ship bound whose manifest indicated its next port of call would be here… today.

Having left Ursa and Denara at an Athens safe-house he owned through a holding company… he'd quietly flown here and begun his search. He'd have preferred not to have left them behind… but Ursa's massive size was not an easy thing to disguise. His slow wit meant he had to have someone with him… and because of the Hunters now after all of them… holy ground was not an option. Therefore Denara was to be Ursa's companion for the present. He'd made certain their leaving the island had been witnessed… then he'd collected them on the mainland and hidden them in Athens. He hoped he'd done all he could.

Now he had to find the children. Casually he continued to stroll up and down the docks, eyes half-closed… his senses on full alert. The Watchers did not know his face… even if they now knew he existed. For the moment… it was all he could do.

-----

__

Within the dream

Katherine was awash on a wine-dark sea… beneath a blood-red sky forked with black lightning. Her hands dripped blood and her thin dress was wet with the sick feel of it. Nick was dead… she knew that… He had to be dead… and she had failed him.

She lifted her face to the heavens and screamed into the nightmare. The other shifted on the raft, causing it to tilt upward as a wave crashed over it.

Katherine struggled to her feet… teetering precariously as the raft moved across the face of the storm-tossed waters. She raised her sword and hissed at the other.

Slowly… Diego de Silva rose and gazed around. Then he focused on her.

"What madness is this you witch? What have you done?"

"Me… this is your doing!" Katherine spit at him.

She lunged forward… as he hopped back from her swing and replied with a stroke of his own. Back and forth they fought… and the raft tipped and banked as the waves crashed and their swords crashed… and in the sky… the lightning forked blackly through the red night.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Rawlins smiled at the readouts. "They are dueling."

Wilderman glanced over. "So it appears. They are in a precarious scenario where they must cooperate… but still they fight… the imperative of the game is on them." He shrugged. "Either that or their hatred of one another."

"Keep them both alive… They may give us more information than all the others put together so far. Now… we can see what they truly are and why this is so important." He leaned on the gurney and stared at the straining de Silva. "He's a strong one."

Wilderman nodded. Since the breakthrough of the past few days… the addition of the new drugs, which allowed them to tailor the scenarios a little better… they were getting some interesting readings. Rawlins might be more interested in learning what made these immortals tick… but Wilderman was still attempting to grasp the best application of his research… to help mankind… to help the mentally ill… to understand dreams… and the pathways of the mind. These immortals simply allowed him to try things… he could never attempt on mortals… They could survive the missteps… and his research moved forward. He was at peace with his decisions once more as he focused on the end results.

-----

****

Paris

Alisaunne awoke and stared blankly about her, uncertain of where she was. At the sound of laughter from another room… she recalled the immortal Ellie and the boy. Sitting up in the narrow bed she gazed around at the empty and plain room… feeling oddly at home, as if she had finally found what she had long been searching for.

Throwing her coat to one side she rose and crossed to the window… staring down at the busy street. She could see the church grounds from here. Was that how Ellie had found her? Alisaunne shifted at the window and stared at the woman reading on a bench.

"Watcher," the girl hissed as something old and dark slithered through her thoughts. This place was not safe! She needed to get out of here. She needed to get back to Ian.

Alisaunne closed her eyes and attempted to clarify her scrambled thoughts. On the one hand was a great peace as if she were home. On another… disgust that she was on holy ground… and she wanted to be rid of it. With her heart she longed for Ian… and with her hands… her swords… to gut that Watcher… the first of many.

Shivering she turned away from the window and pulled on her boots. Alisaunne grabbed her coat and opened the door. Ellie was curled in a chair talking to the boy. She smiled at Alisaunne, who felt oddly grounded once more… as if this tiny being was her one tie to sanity.

"I have to go. I have to get back. They'll be missing me." She pulled her coat on, as Ellie's smile faded.

"Oh… " Her face dropped. "Well… I'll let you out." Ellie rose and led her down the stairs to an iron gate. Carefully the elder immortal unlocked and opened it. Just before Alisaunne left, Ellie ran her hand along one side of her daughter's face, smiled and tapped the end of her nose. "Be careful out there. And tell no one of this place… no matter what."

Alisaunne nodded absently as she left. Passing beneath the covered entryway… she found herself once more on the street. The sunshine shown warmly and she closed her eyes for a moment, glad to be off of holy ground. She needed to get back to the hotel. Turning to her left, she slowly made her way up the street until she became lost once more in the twisting warren of side streets of the _Olde Citie_. Somehow she found her way back to the hotel.

Entering through the lobby she took an elevator to the seventh floor and headed down the hall. Outside the door she paused to knock… immediately aware no immortal was within. Alisaunne lowered her hand and backed away.

Glancing up and down the hallway… she saw no one… but she was filled with disquiet. Were they out looking for her? Or had something happened? Pivoting she returned to the elevator and left the hotel. At a pay phone she called Ian's cell phone. When the voice said "hello," she immediately hung up and stared at the phone. Then she glanced up and down the street. Best to be gone from here! And go… where? Alisaunne turned with confusion… realizing that she had no idea where she'd come from… as if her memory of the last eighteen hours had vanished. She'd been someplace safe… but someplace she could not go back to… not now.

They had Ian. Those horrible Watchers had Ian! It was the only thing that made sense. She needed to rescue Ian! Ian was her rock! Without him… she was lost in a quagmire of dreams that made no sense. Alisaunne ran down the street… pushing past other pedestrians… her mind awhirl with images and fears.

-----

The Watcher in the hotel lobby had made a mental note of the tall young woman in the long black coat. But her face was not one he recognized from the ones he'd studied. He went back to his paper.

-----

****

Watcher Headquarters, Paris

Maurice Gerard waited apprehensively in the small cubicle. He tapped his fingers on the desk… and then raised his hand to lightly touch the bandage over his face. He'd spent the night in the hospital emergency ward. The doctor there had wanted to admit him… but had settled for simply keeping him there for several hours after he'd stitched up the Watcher's face. Maurice had been unable to call in while he was there recuperating… and then the drugs they gave him for the pain… had put him out for a while.

But he was here now, to make his report.

Glancing up at the attractive woman who entered… he nodded appreciatively at her trim figure. "I had a run-in with an immortal at _St. Julien_," he began, noticing that the woman glanced quickly around as if to be certain they weren't being overheard.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. She did this to me." Maurice motioned toward his face. "I had to have thirty-seven stitches… I may need plastic surgery. She sliced into muscle as well."

"How did you survive?"

"It was holy ground. The angel of _St. Julien_ pulled her away."

"The angel?"

Maurice shrugged. "It is an old legend. She is said to be an angel who appears and vanishes when needed."

"Tell me everything… Describe them."

Maurice nodded and began his detailed report.

Amy Meyers took the information and filed it away. She'd have to report some of this… but surely she could manage to delay the report… or lose the descriptions. Amy wanted to run these descriptions past Joe… She had a feeling he knew who was involved… and how.

----------------------------

_I will be on vacation over the holiday and may not be able to post for several days. I will return next week._ --elle


	74. Chapter 71

_I'm back from holiday and will post two chapters tonight. This is the first of two. Also, one reviewer asked many questions..._

From: LadyJadePerendhil  
  
1.Will Macleod and Amanda have a baby too?

_Not planned in this story... but who knows._

2. What piece of Alisaune's birth are we missing? I don't remember that chapter where you explain exactly what Darius's great sin was.

_That will be revealed in Entr'acte Three... although part of it may be intrinsically understood from the clues given thus far._

3. And so I understand outside of Methos and Ellie, Darius was the oldest Immortal on Earth? And what is this about the Ancient One and some experiment?

_The ancient One was the Oldest of all immortals whom Darius is said to have killed at the gates of Paris about 410 C.E. I have made him the beloved of my original character Aja... the ancient immortal who appears as Methos' childhood protector in **Crossroads in Time** and who placed Aella/Eleanor where he would find her as a child... centuries later. Aella/Eleanor was born 839 C.E. and is nowhere as old as Methos or even Darius. If you haven't read the other stories mentioned in the notes before the Prologue... you might do so. I try to make each story stand on its own... but I may not have been entirely successful. where information is given on canon characters, I make every effort to stay within those guidelines... and find the chinks in it that allow for my vision._

_Thanks for reading... and I hope you continue to read and enjoy the story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. More to come when I return. --elle_

_--------------------------------------------------_

**Chapter 71**

**Location Unknown**

Between the drugs alternating between the food and the water… Micah had been able to stay alert… as had Madrigal. Chou and Denis, who had taken turns being the guinea pigs to test for the drugs, were not in as good a shape as the larger two.

"We're smaller… we're less able to fight back at the moment. You two have to stay alert and ready to move," the diminutive Chou had insisted.

Reluctantly, Micah had agreed. If they were to find a way out of here… it would be up to him and up to Madrigal to engineer it somehow. So far… he'd seen no openings… but the sounds emanating from outside of their prison… made Micah think they might be coming into a port.

All four were sitting against the bulkhead opposite the door… and each was pretending to be adequately drugged.

"If they take us topside… be ready to run for it," Micah whispered when the wheel on the door began to turn.

"Don't rush it," Madrigal had added. "Be certain of your actions and move swiftly. Remember what Amanda told us."

"Clever… we must be clever," Chou and Denis had recited.

The door opened. The same two men who'd been feeding them entered… the only two they had seen.

"Let's go kids," the taller one said. He held a hand and motioned them forward with his fingers. In his other hand was the fire axe.

Dutifully and as if all were equally drugged and compliant… the children rose and weaved across the hold.

The shorter man chortled and pushed them through the passage toward the gangway. "Told you my cookin' would do them in."

Micah clasped one hand on Denis' shoulder while Madrigal wavered and grabbed Chou. Slowly the two pairs of children climbed onto the main deck.

Blinking in the bright sun they noted the sailors off-loading cargo. The two men pushed them towards the gangplank. "Let's go you four."

Madrigal was ready to race off when she felt another… close by. Staring at the docks she saw a familiar shape. "Swordmaster," she breathed and squeezed Chou's shoulder. He nodded. She glanced at Micah, relieved to see that he'd felt the Swordmaster as well. Drunkenly the children stumbled as they were directed forward.

Sudden Chou stopped and bent over. "I don't feel so good," he moaned.

The short cook gave him a kick. "Immortals don't get sick."

Madrigal rounded on him. "You leave him be!"

Cook laughed and grabbed at her roughly squeezing her small breasts… "Not quite out of it are you lassie. Well maybe you and me can go a few rounds. Whatdayasay? Blow me good and I'll leave the kid alone."

Madrigal's eyes widened as she struggled vainly in his hands, fearfully whimpering.

"Not here," axeman said. "Wait'll we get them in the van."

Cook laughed, and held Madrigal tightly as he ran his tongue over her face. "Soon pretty girl. Soon." He kicked again at Chou. A groaning Micah leaned over and weakly helped Chou to his feet. The three boys stumbled arm in arm down the gangplank.

Already Micah could see the Swordmaster inching closer and getting into position. The Swordmaster shook his head at Micah and moved further into the shadows closer to the ship. On the wharf… Micah saw a black van and four men… waiting. Mentally he reminded himself… "_We are not children… we are simply small_." He clutched Chou's shoulder in one hand and Denis' in the other… propelling them before him and positioning them both for the push to each side he'd give them. He just hoped that Madrigal kept her head and did not let cook's advances and words keep her from moving when she had to.

They were four… but they had the Swordmaster nearby… and he was worth any two of these men… maybe more. Micah continued to act as if drugged. Halfway down the gangplank he shoved Chou off to one side and tossed Denis over the rail on the other. At the same moment he raced forward toward the van screaming loudly.

"Hey kid!" shouted axeman and started after him. Madrigal grabbed cook's arm and turned… bending it back and breaking it… grinning at the satisfactory snap and the yelp of pain from the little man. She kicked him down and twisted his head until his neck snapped with a satisfying _crunch_. Amanda had taught her that move.

By this time the four at the van had started forward only to be met by Micah's flailing feet and fists. He managed to delay three of them before they got him under control. By that time, Chou… who'd been caught by Phillip and Denis who'd twisted to land on his feet along with Madrigal and Phillip rushed the others…

Phillip grabbed the necks of the two closest men and slammed their heads together forcefully. The three children rushed the two men still holding Micah and hurriedly let fly with fists and feet. Working as a unit… they felled the men and grabbed Micah.

"This way!" yelled Chou and the four took off up the wharf.

"What about the Swordmaster?" Madrigal managed when they halted to catch their breath.

"He said he'd meet up with us at the _Hotel de Vittorio_. He's gonna see what he can find out following those guys." Chou grinned, obviously delighted that he'd managed to deliver the entire message without a hitch.

"Great… did he happen to tell you where the hotel is or how we get there?" Micah said with a smirk.

Chou looked around thoughtfully and then shook his head.

"We're in Taranto, Italy," Denis said with a shrug. "I was last here during the late 1980's."

The three stared at the normally quiet Denis. He grinned knowingly and motioned them to follow him. They laughed, linked arms and did so. When they worked together… they could accomplish anything. That's what Amanda had told them.

-----

Phillip ducked back into the shadows. He didn't think any of the six… make that five surviving Watchers had gotten a good look at him. They were too busy trying to regroup. One was dead… two had concussions and would be out of it for some time… and the remaining three were arguing about whose fault it was that those "blasted kids" had managed to pull a fast one. They bundled their dead and unconscious members into the back of their van and drove off… unaware that they had a hanger-on.

When the van stopped at some iron gates which slowly opened to admit it… Phillip hopped off and hid in the trees. He wasn't here to take this group on… just to reconnoiter. Pulling out his map of the area… he marked the villa's location, then shoved the map back in his pocket and climbed a tree. Settling comfortably on a wide branch, Phillip pulled out a small riflescope and used it to get a better look inside.

The two men whose heads he'd slammed together were helped inside while the other three were apparently being dressed down by a very angry superior. As if to make his point… the man pulled a gun and shot one of his henchmen in the head. Phillip lowered the scope. These people were playing for keeps. They evidently had little respect for human life. He needed to get closer… see if anyone else was about… but right now he didn't see how. Well, he doubted they were going anywhere for the time being.

Sliding down the tree once more, Phillip headed back to Taranto. He still had to make certain the children were all right. Remaining in the surrounding trees, Phillip hiked toward town… staying out of sight.

-----

****

Northern Italy

"Thanks!" Keith Boyer waved to the truck driver as he alighted from the rig and watched it drive off down the highway. He'd fallen back on some of his old routines… that of a college student hiking across Europe… trying to see the sights. His main goal, however had been to get out of Geneva as quickly and as invisibly as he could. Hitching a ride… solved his problems.

Keith shifted his backpack and glanced around at the hot dusty landscape. Caution suggested he find a quiet place… an out-of-the-way small Italian town and hole up. However, Keith had a feeling that he needed to join forces with another immortal somehow. Those who were alone seemed to be the ones being grabbed first.

Setting his sights on the road south… toward Rome… he began his hike. Maybe he'd hitch another ride… if the right one came along.

-----

Keith felt the immortal as the car slowed and pulled over. The blonde looked at him soberly, eyeing him carefully. She was a real looker.

"Keith Boyer," he introduced himself carefully as he approached the car, one hand already on the hilt of his sword.

She laughed. "Reagan Cole. Get in… We need to talk."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because there are people trying to capture and kill us?" She met his gaze as he nodded. "We need to pool our resources."

Keith opened the backdoor and tossed his backpack in, then climbed in after it. "Hi!" he said to the young man in the passenger seat who nodded back.

"I'm Warren Green."

Keith nodded, "Where are we headed?"

"Rome," Regan said. "I noted there was some immortal activity there that made the news recently. I was looking for some help. I take it you were thinking the same thing."

"Yeah. I'd thought about Paris… but," Keith shook his head, "I thought that was a little too predictable."

"Same here. I have some contacts with some friends in Paris."

"Email?"

Regan eyed him the rearview mirror. Slowly she nodded.

Keith grinned. "I have the latest generation of hand-held… wireless access anywhere in the world."

Reagan chuckled. "I knew you had that techgeek look when I stopped. You, my young friend… are going to come in handy."

Keith lay back in the seat, pulling his hat over his eyes. "Yeah… oh yeah! Just let me know when you want it…" he grinned, "the PPC I mean." But he was rather hoping she might be interested in a little more than his hand-held computer."


	75. Chapter 72

_This is the second of two chapters loaded today. _--elle

**Chapter 72**

**Upstate New York**

Through the binoculars, the place looked deserted. Matt had been watching now for almost an hour. The isolated building… looking as if it might have been an old brewery once upon a time sat on deserted property amongst some lightly forested rolling hills. Matt could not feel any other immortal in the area… but then he and the women were likely too far away.

He glanced up as Amber approached and handed him a bottle of water. "Thought ya might be thirsty," she said.

"Thanks." Matt grasped the bottle, opened it and downed about half of it. He rubbed one hand across his forehead to wipe at the light beads of sweat. "It's hot for this time of year."

Amber crouched down and nodded. "Any movement?"

He shook his head. "I think it might be deserted."

"One of us could find out."

Matt nodded. "Who gets to play bait."

Amber grinned. "That would be me, I think. You and Katya are likely much better fighters… and older. It would be you two they might most be interested in. I'd need ya two to help rescue me." She'd listened to the two of them talk about the medieval England they'd grown up in hundreds of years ago… and the immortals they'd both known over the years. Amber had felt a little out of her depth with these two… They even made Connor seem young.

Matt chuckled, "Somehow, Amber, I don't think you'd ever need rescuin'." His soft southern drawl was still there… but the longer he spent with the two of them… the more elusive it became… as if the southern gentleman he'd been portraying for the FBI in recent years was gradually fading away. He handed the empty bottle back to her. "You goin' now or waitin' until dark."

"I don't think waitin' will do me any good if they are really and truly there… but I don't think they are."

"I don't either." Matt raised the binoculars to regard the deserted building once more. Finally he sighed. "No time like the present."

Amber grinned. "On my way." She rose and, hugging the trees and underbrush, made her way around the preimeter.

Katya laughed from further back. "That girl has enthusiasm!"

"The foibles of youth," agreed Matt. "Were we ever so young?"

"I was… young and foolish."

"She had a good teacher, though. I met MacLeod once."

"Connor?"

Matt nodded. "The other one too, Duncan. But it was Connor who made a real impression on me."

"Why is that?"

"He had an intensity and seriousness about the game that made you think he'd find a way to survive… no matter what."

Katya moved forward and took the binoculars from his hands as she watched Amber's progress. 'I wonder what happened to him exactly. I heard he was dead… but no specifics."

"I have a feeling she knows… It might be the reason she wanted to see this place so badly… see for herself what went on here that changed him."

"But he died in the city."

"Physically… so I heard."

"There she goes." Katya laughed and handed the binoculars back to Matt. "Think I'll get ready in case she needs some help. She rose and crept back towards their hidden car. Matt could hear her stretching and going through a light workout… just in case.

Looking through the lenses, Matt grinned as the young woman sauntered up to the building, whistling some Irish aire she knew. He chuckled, "You do have gall, Amber Conroy!"

She vanished into the building. Ten minutes later she re-appeared, whistled sharply and motioned them down. Evidently the coast was clear. Matt rose, waved and walked back to the four-wheel drive vehicle they'd rented. He hopped in as Katya started the engine and drove down the hillside and along the gravel road to the front of the building.

"It's deserted," Amber said as they approached her. "Looks like it's been deserted for years. It smells like old death."

Matt nodded his understanding. He was familiar with buildings that had hosted old crimes. If they were bloody enough… the smell of blood lasted long after the scenes had been cleaned. But when he entered… he realized this place had never been cleaned. They'd likely just removed the bodies… and moved on.

In a dark sub-terranean room all three stared at a dozen strange gurneys, that tipped vertically and bore signs of heavy restraints. The death smell was strongest in here… and Matt could smell not just blood but the putrid smell of rot and waste.

Katya kicked at something on the floor then crouched near it to examine it. She picked up a syringe and sniffed. "I think they may have used the same drugs on them they used on us. It smells familiar.

"No!"

Matt turned to regard a distraught Amber.

"He said they were friends… that this was just a chance to leave the game for a while… to rest." Amber turned. "This isn't rest… it's torture!"

Katya rose and hugged the younger immortal… attempting to comfort her as she wailed and stamped. Connor had inspired great loyalty in his students. The few Matt had met over the centuries told him that much.

"Let's look elsewhere," Matt motioned for Katya to bring Amber out of here. He was sorry she'd seen this… that the last of her illusions about what had happened to her teacher had been dashed… but honestly… Matt had seen worse… and some of it done by their own kind. From the look Katya had given him… she had, as well.

In a darkened room that might have been an office or file room at one time… they found only empty and open drawers.

"When our Watcher friends left this place… they took their records with them," Matt murmured. His flashlight played over the walls… resting at last on a torn map of the world still hanging on the wall. He crossed to it but saw nothing interesting. He lifted it and shown the light on the wall behind the map to be certain he wasn't missing anything.

"Wait!" Katya cried out. "There are pin holes in the map.

Matt shown the light on the front side and look and felt the surface of the map closely; his fingertips finding one pinhole in Northern Mexico.

"No… lift the map and go behind it… Shine the light from the back side," Amber said.

Matt nodded and did so. Katya and Amber grabbed pen and paper and began to write down the coordinates of the pinholes.

"One is here… upstate New York. Maybe that means these other holes were other Watcher Sanctuaries or facilities."

"If we can get these locations out to your friends, Katya… we might be able to put a stop to some of this."

"Absolutely," Katya smiled with determination. Let's see what else we can find around here and then we'll use that fancy computer of yours to get the word out." With that… the three immortals re-doubled their search efforts.

They found nothing else though, the map had likely been left because of it's size, it's ripped state, and the fact that whoever had removed everything else, had not considered there would be any clue of their activities on a map of the world.

That night at the motel, Matt set his computer up and he and Katya began contacting everyone they knew with the coordinates they'd written down. Amber did a food run, returning with a bucket of chicken and a twelve pack of beer. She settled down on one of the beds as the other two worked out their next step.

"The closest one is in Mexico," Katya said.

"That's not exactly friendly territory these days."

"All the more reason to check it out. The coordinates suggest it's in a desert area."

"I still say let's go to California first. Let's deal with the ones here and then move out."

"Maybe you should wait to hear where the others are, and what they find out," Amber spoke up from the bed. She picked up the remote and shut the television off as the other two looked at her.

"We don't know precisely where anyone is… that's the advantage of email."

Amber pulled the quilt up around her and scrunched down in the bed. "Then let them tell you which one they'll head for. Problem solved." She turned out the bedside lamp and closed her eyes. She was tired… and she wanted to sleep… and not dream.

Matt chuckled. "She's right, you know. If we just get the info out there and let others choose where they'll go… instead of trying to direct everyone from here… we'll likely have just as much luck as if we try to direct everyone."

Katya shot him a sharp glance and then shook her head laughing. "Fine… we've sent the word out… We'll wait until tomorrow morning and see if we get any feedback."

Katya rose and pushed Amber over as she climbed into the bed.

Matt chuckled. "I could sit here and let you have the other one… or you could share with me."

"Somehow I don't think so," Katya murmured. "Get the lights, will you."

Matt turned the lights out.

-----

__

Within the dream

The armies of the night clashed across the landscape. Beneath a violet sky, forked with lightning, the ancient Spartan warrior Kyra stood to one side watching the slaughter. The sword in her hand felt oddly light… as if it were not there at all.

"It is the end of days!"

Kyra stared blankly at the other immortal. Oriental… a middle-aged man… but not so old as she.

"You and I have arrived at the the Gathering. We are all who remain," the man continued. "I waited on holy ground until all were dead. Now we fight for the prize." He assumed a stance with his Chinese sword and smiled hungrily.

Kyra shook her head. "This is a dream… this is not real."

"It is real if I say it is real!" the man said haughtily as he attacked.

Dream-like… as if in slow motion… Kyra blocked his feeble strokes… until his sword flew from his hands and vanished into the violet mist swirling at their feet. She lay her sword across his neck.

"In the end there can be only one!" the man cried out as he fell to his knees.

Kyra stepped back. "Who are you? Or do dreams have names?"

"I am Kiem Sun," the other replied, leaning forward on one hand while rubbing his neck.

"Then where are we? How did we get here? If this is the Gathering… what happened to all the others?"

"What do you mean?" Sun leaned back on his heels.

"I didn't fight them? Did you?"

Kiem Sun shook his head.

"Then this is a dream."

"If we die in the dream… are we dead in reality?"

Kyra laughed. "I guess it depends who's doing the dreaming. Am I dreaming of you… or?"

"I see your point." As Kyra turned away to observe again the clashing armies of mortals fighting to survive… Sun noticed his sword re-appearing in the dust. He reached for it and stood.

Kyra turned back, staring at his blade. Slowly she dropped hers to see it vanish. Kiem Sun raised his sword to attack and then froze.

"Bah!" he lowered his blade and stalked about the small promontory.

"If we are all there are… then the winner will be alone," Kyra said. "That is no prize… it is Hell."

Sun paced back and forth, finally flinging his sword off into the distance. "It has been too long since I fought. I find I do not want your head."

"Nor I yours."

Kyra's sword flickered once more into existence at her feet. She ignored it.

"Is this my dream or yours," the Oriental asked stepping closely beside her, noting he sensed only her in this vision. Usually his dreams of the Gathering over the years had been of him facing and fighting all comers. He raised a hand to lightly brush her blonde hair.

Kyra shook his hand away and turned back. She noted that although middle-aged… this Kiem Sun was lean and muscular… she ran one hand over the thin silk of his shirt… aware of the rock-hard feel of him. Gasping she stepped back murmuring, "If we are all that remain… we can choose to end the fight so that neither of us is alone."

"And if this is a dream?" Kiem Sun asked.

"Then you are my dream."

"And you are mine." Kiem Sun reached out to pull her into an embrace, aware that she was doing the same.

He flew off into the purple sky. Kyra reached upward and screamed into the raining lightning as he vanished into the night.

Kiem shouted denial as his golden vision vanished in the darkening gloom of the dream. He was alone… and the prize was a lie.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"What happened? Why didn't they fight?" Rawlins spat out as one of Wilderman's white-coated associates wheeled number 5 away. "They weren't friends… they didn't know one another. You said the scenario of the final fight would produce results."

Wilderman stared at the readouts and glanced at number 10. "For a moment… they were joined in the dream… not as strongly as number 47 and his unknown partner… but approaching it."

"What does that mean?" snapped Rawlins.

Wilderman ran the video one more time as the two figures fought and then cast down their weapons and began to embrace. He shook his head. "The Gathering… the final fight for the prize is supposed to be a biological imperative. That's what you said." He stroked his chin thoughtfully considering. "Perhaps it is something else… perhaps I need to re-write the program."

Rawlins leaned over the gurney, letting his eyes travel over the lax and sleeping form of number 10. "You will give up your secrets old one. You are the oldest of all I have… save two… and them I have other plans for them… I cannot use one of them at the moment… thus the other sleeps. You are likely closer to the secrets than all of the others. I will unlock them."

Pivoting he stormed out.

Behind him Wilderman ran the video again… seeking the answers. "Why don't they fight?" he murmured. "Why don't they fight?"


	76. Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Taranto, Italy

When he returned to the small and rather seedy _Hotel de Vittorio_, Phillip smiled broadly at the sight of the four children grouped on the divan in the lobby.

Madrigal, the first to sense him rose, flinging her arms about him. "You came for us!" she cried. The others gathered around.

"There now… was there ever any doubt?" Phillip held her for a moment and reached out to brush the hair on the smallest ones with his fingers and smile at Micah… attempting to appear stolid and grown-up off to one side. "Let's go upstairs." Phillip retrieved his room key with a smile at the clerk. "My children… I told you I was meeting my children." The clerk nodded, but gazed at Chou and Denis curiously as the re-united "family" climbed the lobby stairs to the mezzanine level and vanished down the hallway.

Within Phillip's room, the two youngest children climbed onto one of the beds and stretched out to sleep while Madrigal and Micah faced Phillip.

"They've had a hard time. They handled most of the drugged food and water," Micah reported. "Some is still in their system."

Phillip nodded with understanding, his gaze on the boys, a gaze filled with guilt for having failed them all… at their having to go through this little adventure. Phillip knew he should have done more… been better prepared… something. Letting out a great sigh, the Greek pulled the map out of his back pocket and spread it on the table.

"How is Denara?" Madrigal asked.

"She's fine. She and Ursa are in a safe-house."

"And Luke? She's dead… isn't she?"

Phillip nodded as he pulled out his PPC and began entering the map coordinates into an email.

"And… the others… Val and…" Micah's voice trailed off and he glanced around as if the walls might have ears.

"Fine," Phillip said absently. Suddenly he smiled with a wink. "The coordinates of where I followed them to match with some a friend sent." He straightened and grinned. "We'll need to take another look at what's going on there. Interested?" Phillip gazed at the older two children… not as children… but as fellow immortals. The Watchers had misjudged them… and the two smaller ones… Phillip would not make the same mistake.

Micah nodded grimly. "For Luke!" He held out a fist.

"For Luke," repeated Madrigal as she held out her fist and lay it atop Michahs's. Then she smiled. "For all of us."

Phillip laughed as he followed suit… adding his massive fist to theirs. "Then here's what we'll do…"

-----

****

Paris

Alisaunne brushed up against a tourist taking snapshots of his family… apologised profusely and walked away… his cell phone in her pocket. She'd not keep it… but she needed to try Duncan's cellphone number and she was reluctant to use another public phone. Punching in the number as she walked she heard it ring…

"Hello?" Duncan's voice answered.

Alisaunne closed her eyes in a silent prayer. "I think someone has Ian," she whispered.

She heard a sound of relief on the other end. "Where are you now?"

Alisaunne looked around. "I don't know… not really. I've been wandering."

Duncan barked an address. "Can you find that?"

"Yes… I think so. Why not a church?"

"Because we're helpless on holy ground." The line went dead.

Alisaunne tossed the phone in a trash receptacle and crossed to a newsstand where she purchased a map of Paris. Spreading it out… she located the address Duncan had given her and looked about for a street sign to figure out where she was. Once she knew… she found the location on the map and planned the best route to where she'd meet Duncan. Alisaunne folded the map and glanced around again to see if anyone was paying any attention to her. No one was. She rammed the map into a coat pocket… feeling the comfort of her blades inside the lining… and began the long walk… to the _Louvre_.

-----

Duncan lay his head against the steering wheel. "She's fine… they don't have her," he murmured to Amanda.

He felt her rub one hand gently across the knotted muscles of his shoulders. "Why is she so important?"

Duncan shook his head. "She's the only one of my students who remains. They've all died Amanda. I failed all of them. I won't fail her."

Amanda leaned her head against his shoulder. "_We_ won't fail."

He smiled and kissed her hair… suddenly wishing once more for the bed and breakfast… as if something unfinished yet lay between them. Duncan shook his head to clear it and pulled out his PPC. "Once we've collected her… we'll check out this location Katya sent."

"Suppose it's nothing." Amanda said as she straightened. "If Methos were being held in Paris… wouldn't Ellie know? And shouldn't we try to find her as well?"

"We will," Duncan nodded. "But I have to collect Alisaunne first. Ellie's more than capable of looking after herself and Derrick."

"Derrick?"

Duncan stared at her. He was suddenly aware that he'd never mentioned Derrick to Amanda. "He's a boy Ellie and Methos were raising."

"One of us?"

Duncan nodded. "Still pre-immortal from what Ellie said the other night."

"How old is he Duncan… I mean… if something happened to him… would he be old enough to survive?"

Duncan shook his head. "He'd be about Richie's age now. He needs more time."

"Duncan?"

He stared at her.

"Who is he? Your voice changes… when you speak of him… as if he's someone important."

Duncan nodded. "He may be Amanda. He apparently has some of Darius' memories… but they didn't make sense to him when he was smaller. If he grows up… they might… but Ellie says he's beginning to forget them."

"Darius' memories?" Amanda sat back wide-eyed. "Which ones?" She glanced at his bag with the laptop. "The one's that will solve that game of yours?"

"I don't know. I only know he asked me for time to grow up." Duncan started the car and headed to meet Alisaunne while Amanda sat quietly… trying to organize all the bits and pieces into a cohesive whole. But as of yet… they still remained a puzzle.

-----

Amy entered Joe's place grateful that no one was here but her father. He glanced up at her… worry in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Who are you protecting?" Amy asked. "Who is she?"

Astounded, Joe leaned back in chair. "What are you talking about?"

Amy paced about the bar. "A female sliced up a Watcher at _St. Julien Le Pauvre_ last night. I intercepted his report… but I don't know how long I can sit on it. The word is bound to get out."

Joe shook his head. "Tell me what happened."

"Mischkov has put someone on the church… It seems he's looking for someone… a female known to frequent that area. Thankfully the man will live… and he wasn't in Mischkov's inner circle… but Joe… once this gets out… Mischkov will tear that area apart to find her. And since you were seen there recently… he may decide to tear you apart, too."

"This doesn't make sense," Joe shook his head. He pulled out the cell phone and punched in a number. "Mac… stay away from Darius' church… it's being watched." He hung up. "Voice mail account." Joe rose. "Get back… and stay safe. I'll talk to Gautier and the others. We may need to speed things up a bit."

Amy nodded, reached over to kiss his cheek fearfully and then left. If they weren't very, very careful… they might all die.

-----

Burt Meyers continued his watch outside the Paris Watcher Headquarters. He'd seen Amy tear out of here earlier and she hadn't even noticed him… or if she had… she'd known not to approach. He had called in several favors with some old buddies of his and the group of them were keeping their eyes on the place, ready to move when any transport left the area.

"They are only holding them here… the three of them," Amy had told him. "I'm not certain why they haven't moved them yet."

"They must be waiting for at least one more… an important one," Burt had said. "It's the only thing that makes sense." So Burt and the others watched and waited. Joe had given them the locations of several other Watcher land holdings in Paris… but apparently those were just personnel quarters and business covers. So far… they had no idea where the kidnapped immortals were being held.

Burt had also put a team on his mother-in-law's house. "Protect her and the twins at all costs," Burt had told them. He had to know his children were safe if he were to pursue his investigation. His children were what mattered.

"Two cars entering from the south," came the voice in his earpiece. Burt replied quietly and shifted position slightly to be certain he wasn't visible from the road. The two cars pulled into the expanse before the estate and three men exited the two vehicles. They stood for a moment talking… and then went inside.

"Be ready… they may be ready to move them," Burt whispered, hoping that however and whichever direction they took… his people would be able to follow. If they lost them… they'd have to start over… wait for another immortal to go down.

Thoughts about Nick Wolfe stirred about in Burt's mind. The ex-cop had vanished years ago at the start of all this evidently. Was his friend still alive? Or was he trapped in some sort of drugged captivity somewhere. According to Joe… no one had seen the young immortal in years. Amy, in fact, may have been the last Watcher to see him alive. Amanda had been seen recently… Amy said… but not Nick Wolfe.

Burt had known men who'd been held captive in wartime… or as the result of covert activities around the world. It was never easy… and the longer it went on… the worse the psychological damage. Some of the men… once freed… were never the same. Even if Burt and his group managed to find and free the immortals… would they recover? Joe said some of them were centuries old… that they had a wealth of knowledge and experience… that even if they were drugged… they'd recover. Burt wasn't so sure. And what about the young ones… like Nick… still young enough to be in their first life. What would this do to them?

He hunkered down in his spot once more and lifted the binoculars. Was that some movement? He spoke into his small mike and got a report. Five men and three women were on the eastern veranda. Benson thought he could get close enough to hear what was said. Burt waited.

-----

Avril Mishkov glared at his team. "We have suffered a major setback. Those specimens were needed," he said darkly. Running a hand through his thinning hair he was aware that he was losing control. He took three deep cleansing breaths and smiled at the others… motioning them to have a seat.

"I dealt with the idiot who lost the children," Salinas said. Mischkov noted a fine sheen of perspiration on the man's upper lip. He was clearly nervous.

"Reports indicate the children had help… but the other two were unable to offer any clues as to his identity." Salinas' assistant added.

Mischkov slowly nodded. "The unknown warrior from Niebos, perhaps. Certainly Ursa would not have the mental capacity to pull this off and vanish again."

"Are we so certain of that? Where is he now?" Jenna Case slowly crossed her legs as she settled more comfortably in her chair.

Mischkov shook his head. "The team in Greece saw him with the other child in Athens… and then they vanished. They're still looking for them."

"Likely he's gone underground… Didn't he live in the Paris sewers at one time?"

Mischkov nodded. "But I don't think he's done that this time. He's in an unfamiliar country. Have them check out monasteries and other religious communities in the area."

"I thought he was to be killed?" Jenna asked.

Mischkov shook his head. "He was not seen as important originally. But with all that's happened… he might be. Rawlins wants the older ones gathered. Older in actual years… not physical ones. Evidently some new piece of information has arisen in his project. He's wanting all those whose ages number in the thousands of years… not the hundreds. Even those whose mental capacity is… shall I say… limited at best."

Mischkov turned from the group and slipped his hand inside his jacket. He withrew the gun, turned and fired between Salinas' eyes. "He failed. Make certain none of the rest of you fail." Avril Mischkov replaced the gun in his jacket, straightened his cuffs and nodded curtly as he returned to the building. He had decided to pay another call on his three patients. Perhaps one of them would answer the new questions he had. Too bad he couldn't kill one of them… but Rawlins had been most specific about that. All captured immortals were to be held and shipped to him when he asked for them. None were to be killed… no matter what.

But Avril Mischkov had begun to wonder what it would be like to take a head and watch the quickening flow into another one from a close distance. He'd always been so far away. What if he were right there… would some of it flow into him? Would it hurt? Or would it be something wonderful? Why was it the immortals longed for this power… what did it offer them? He licked his dry lips in anticipation. If he could get another one… and not report this one… then he could kill one and see what happened… but first… Avril Mischkov needed his people to find one more… just a young one.

By the time the elevator opened on the medical level, Mischkov was practically humming in anticipation.


	77. Chapter 74

****

Chapter 74

Rome, Italy

Once inside a hotel room, Keith showed Reagan how to use his hand-held. She nodded and began to pace back and forth as she tapped the stylus on the screen.

Keith eyed the mortal. "And who are you exactly?"

Warren gulped. "I'm Reagan's Watcher. I didn't want anything to happen to her."

Keith laughed as he lounged in the companion chair. "So… not all of you guys are evil."

Warren shook his head. "Normally… we just watch and record your lives and your battles. It's only recently that something else started happening."

"Damn!" hissed Reagan.

"What's up?" Keith asked, appreciating her trim form.

"There's a place south of here that looks promising."

"Promising for what?" Warren sat up confused.

"You are staying here and staying out of sight," Reagan added. "You're mortal and all too fragile."

"I'm not fragile…" Warren protested.

Keith sighed and stood up… reclaiming his long coat and adjusting the sword in it's lining. "So where to?"

"Taranto… ever been there?"

Keith nodded. "Backpacked through there about ten years ago… why?"

"Something's going on there… something big. So off we go."

"What about the Rome headquarters?" Warren added.

"I don't think the main headquarters are what we need, Warren. But these minor property acquisitions in smaller areas… the ones not generally known to the rank and file in your organization… those are the ones we need to investigate first."

"Makes sense," Keith added. He held out his hand for his computer. Reagan gave it to him and pulled her own long coat and sword out and adjusted her attire to accommodate them.

"You two are planning on taking heads," Warren whispered.

Reagan then pulled out an automatic weapon and several clips. She tossed them to Keith who loaded the weapon and stowed it and the clips in his coat.

Reagan checked her own and added several additional clips to her pockets. She regarded Warren somberly. "You're staying here. This could get messy and I don't want to have to be worrying about you."

"But I should be there… I'm…"

"Not expendable," Reagan smiled and then leaned over and gave him a kiss. She laughed. "Bet you thought I hadn't noticed you." She straightened as the flustered Warren's face turned red. Turning to Keith she added. "I hope you're as competent as I need you to be."

"You lead… I'll follow. Age before beauty… although in your case… it's both." Keith gave her a mocking salute. Young he was… but he wasn't stupid. Reagan Cole was an expert in surveillance and undercover activities. He knew his place. He was back-up… and after what had happened in Geneva… Keith determined not to be caught again.

"Let's go," Reagan said as she opened the door. Pausing to give Warren a smile, "Stay in the room… no matter what."

Warren sighed and had a seat once more as he reached for the television remote. "I don't speak Italian so there's not too much I can do anyway," he grumbled flipping the set on and hoping that somewhere would be a channel he could actually understand.

-----

****

Nevada

The small private plane landed at the nearly deserted airstrip and taxied to a halt near the terminal. A few moments later, Katya, Matt, and Amber exited the plane. They'd chosen this as their destination as it was small enough not to be watched. An email from Duncan last night had warned the major airports were likely under surveillance. Nevada would be a good jumping off point for which of the two Watcher facilities they decided to check out first. So far no one had offered to check on either one.

After renting the car, Matt pulled out toward the highway. "I still say California. Let's eliminate that one… then we go south. That'll give us time to get ID's in order."

Katya nodded reluctantly. "I still think the more isolated one is the better target, but this one is closer and easier to get to. Let's just hope the delay is not costly."

Matt glanced at Amber sitting quietly in the back. The young immortal had become increasingly quiet and thoughtful on their journey. "We'll get to the bottom of all this Amber. No other immortal will suffer at these men's hands."

Amber met his gaze and nodded… but there was a lack of enthusiasm there… as if she were mourning the loss of her teacher all over again. Matt saw only a flat acceptance in her eyes. Matt was at a loss as to what to say.

"Ah have a few friends in the northern California area," Matt insisted. "They'll help."

"If they're not already caught, you mean," Katya snorted.

"Not these two." Matt grinned. "Interpol and the FBI have been after them for years. Last message I had from them six months ago was that they planned to hide out for a while and let things cool down."

From the back, Amber spoke up. "Sounds like criminals,"

Matt smiled. "In a way. Let's just say these two have an interestin' way of managin' to survive in a style to which they think the world owes them."

Katya shook her head with a smirk. "I can't wait!"

Matt smiled as he headed west. Immortals Jade and Jeremy Dexter were thieves of the first order. He'd known both of them for centuries. He'd decided long ago that as long as they didn't hurt anyone… anyone mortal at least… beyond their pocketbook… Matt could turn a blind eye to their activities. It wasn't the lifestyle he would have chosen… but he had always understood that for some immortals… the thrill of the theft was what kept them going. Jade was just a little bit younger than Matt… they'd even had a relationship at one time… centuries ago. It had been a brief and flirtatious fling… but Matt had always kept a soft spot in his heart for her… always looking the other way if their paths crossed professionally.

Dexter was several centuries younger. He and Jade had hooked up about twelve years ago. They'd both gone after the same prize… a Da Vinci sketch on display in Washington DC that was worth millions, Matt thought. They'd tripped each other up… but had both managed to escape. One thing had led to another… and they'd paired up… both professionally and personally. After pulling several big jobs in Europe and the States… they'd vanished into the hustle and bustle of life in San Francisco.

Matt had watched the entire affair from inside the FBI. It hadn't been his case… and he'd offered no clue as to the immortals' plans or identities. After all, as long as no one was hurt… he'd been rather amused by his friends' activities.

Six months ago he'd received a letter indicating that they thought they were being watched. They'd had an altercation with a couple of men attacking their penthouse apartment. They'd assumed at first that they were inept burglars; but something one of them said had worried the pair… something about "the end of the game is here". Upon further discussion, after leaving the men tied up…Jeremy and Jade had vanished into a wilderness region of northern California. Jade had sent the letter as much as a warning as anything else. In retrospect, Matt had begun to wonder if the so-called burglars hadn't been members of this Watcher Organization.

At any rate… Matt knew where they were… and wanted to either enlist their help and expertise… or he wanted them to know what was happening. These Watchers posed an unacceptable risk to all immortals. Even if all surviving immortals would one day meet in combat to decide the winner of the game… that day was not today… Matt McCormick was certain of it.

He turned on the radio to alleviate the silence in the car.

-----

****

Paris

Alisaunne waited impatiently near the entrance of the _Louvre_. Every time someone looked at her she felt like drawing her blades and killing them. Just as she thought she could not manage for one more moment, she felt the approach of an immortal. She glanced up, relieved to see Duncan.

She slipped into his embrace and sobbed, "They have Ian!"

"I know," he said softly, holding on to her. "I was afraid they had you too."

"I was restless… I went out… I just wandered. It's my fault… I should have been there!"

"And done what? They'd have taken you as well." He sighed deeply. At least she was safe for the moment. Ever since she'd called, he'd worried that someone would get to her before he could.

"I should have taken him with me… but I just needed to be on my own for a while." She raised her tear-stained face. "You do understand… don't you Duncan? My whole existence has been so controlled and orchestrated for so long… I needed to be alone and on my own for a while, no matter what."

"I understand," Duncan said. "It's more than time you were on your own… I just had some issues about letting you go." He smiled at her as he gently brushed a lock of her dark hair from her tear-stained face. "I always pushed my students away too soon… and they always died, Alisaunne… I want you to live."

Nodding her head she leaned back into his chest and began to sob once more. Duncan found himself stroking her long dark hair. She felt so right in his arms. He sighed… then pushed her away slightly. "We need to go. We're too visible here." He led her to the car.

Opening the door he motioned her in and then climbed in beside her. From behind the wheel, Amanda smiled at them both. "So where to now, Duncan?"

"Just drive for the moment." Duncan leaned back and closed his eyes, slightly rubbing his brow with the fingers of one hand. He could not recall being so tired in some time.

Amanda finally pulled off at small inn east of Paris. She smiled as she turned off the ignition. "We need a base of operations. We can't keep driving. I'll rent us a cottage."

"No," Duncan said sharply. He pulled some cash from a pocket and peeled off several bills. He handed them to Alisaunne. "They don't know what you look like. See what you can get for us."

The young immortal took the bills solemnly. Stuffing them into her pocket, she waited for Duncan to let her out and then entered the office of the inn.

"You really have to explain to me what is going on with you two," Amanda said calmly.

"There's nothing going on. She's involved with Ian… I told you that."

"She may be involved with Ian… but she evidently cares for you."

Duncan clasped Amanda's hand and brought it to his lips. "She's fond of me… I'm fond of her… but trust me Amanda… you are the woman I want in my life." He grinned teasingly. "At least for today."

Amanda pulled her hand free and stared at the passing traffic through the driver's side window. After a long pause she sighed, "I'd like to believe that Duncan… I truly would. But we've always just been good friends. Maybe that's all we'll ever be."

Duncan reached to turn her face back to his, cupping her chin softly. "I do love you."

Amanda nodded. "I know."

He kissed her… and was still kissing her when Alisaunne returned, climbing into the back seat. "We've got a cottage. "

He pulled back and caressed Amanda's jaw as he mouthed his feelings again.

Amanda nodded, tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear and sniffed. "Which one?" she asked and then drove through the lot until they parked outside the furthest cottage from the road. She backed into the parking spot to be ready to pull out quickly if they needed.

After grabbing his bag, Duncan secured the car and followed the women into the cottage. One glance told him it was sparsely decorated. It had one large room that served as sitting area, bedroom and kitchen. There was a small bath with a shower at the back.

"I'll take the couch," Alisaunne said numbly as she removed and dropped her coat to the floor and curled up on the couch whimpering. Amanda grabbed a blanket and threw it over the young woman, sitting beside her for a few moments and rubbing her arm.

"I'm certain he'll be fine," she comforted, but she gazed at Duncan with worry.

Duncan pulled out his PPC and the old laptop to check messages. He sat back thoughtfully after a few moments.

Amanda rose to lean over him, her arms encircling his shoulders. "What is it?"

"Phillip's no longer on his island. They attacked there."

"What?" Amanda straightened fearfully. "The children?"

"Captured and rescued. He's in Italy with them. He's found something he's going to check out."

Amanda glanced at Alisaunne. "And Nick?"

Duncan shook his head. "He doesn't mention him. I'd assume all is well."

She leaned down and hugged him tightly. "I hope so… for all our sakes."


	78. Chapter 75

_Due to yesterday's problems with the server... I am loading a second chapter today._ --elle

----------------------------

**Chapter 75**

**Niebos**

Madame Kouris knocked gently before entering with the dinner tray. Beneath her dark scarf, her dark eyes twinkled merrily. The _patron_ had asked her to care for this child and this man. She would do so. They were a strange pair. The crippled man was evidently mad and had to be kept in restraints. Elena Kouris also thought she'd seen drugs in a bag near the bed.

"You will see strange things _Madame_," the _patron_ had told her. "The child is in charge as long as the man lives. You must listen to her and do whatever she asks."

Elena Kouris had agreed. The _patron_ was said by the elders to be connected to the old gods who'd once called this island sacred. Even her grandmother had spoken of him with awe. "_As long as he dwells among us… we need never fear,_" her grandmother had said to Elena when she was a girl, barely as big as this child was. Elena had grandchildren now. She'd grown old on the island… aware that magic still seemed to dwell here… a magic neither she nor any inhabitant would ever mention to the outside world. "_To tell the world… would be to bring about the end of the magic_," her grandmother had warned her with a wink. So the inhabitants here said nothing. And the magic still protected them.

"Thank you," the tiny one said. Her Greek was passable, if a little old-fashioned.

Elena watched her set the tray on the small chest next to the bed and pull up the small wooden chair. She spoke quietly to the man. This must be a good day. He nodded and the girl began to break apart food for him to eat and fed him.

Elena watched for a moment more and then turned away, closing the solid wood door behind her.

-----

For Valeraine, the days since Phillip had left with Ursa and Denara had been filled with despair. Nothing seemed left of Nick at all. Even this tired and complacent man strapped to the bed did not seem to be him. Phillip had warned her to use her best judgment about releasing him… but Valeraine still feared to do so.

Nick made no wild gyrations… nor did he snap at her fingers hungrily when she fed him as he had done so at first. He seemed to simply be waiting… as if the thing within him was currently occupied somehow. But what remained was no longer Nick.

Valeraine shivered as she recalled the way he'd suddenly thrown himself at her and groped with a strangled snarl the night of the attack. She'd fought him off… but he'd kept coming… as if seeking death. That was when she realized that Nestor was using the Watchers' attack as a means to call attention to himself… to be free once more.

She'd cast away her sword and clung to him… desperately trying to keep him quiet… keep him from bringing anyone else. She'd endured the groping and the slobbering as she'd held to him and focused only on the memory of the Nick she'd first met… the charming young American expatriate… still a green immortal for all his bravado and strength. His longish brown hair and unshaven face had intrigued Valeraine… as had his sparkling eyes and his sense of humor. Valeraine had found it amusing to latch on to such a young immortal… given that she was the one who appeared to be so young and so helpless.

When the quickening that she'd later learned was Luke had erupted… Nick had redoubled his efforts… pawing at her insistently… desperate to be found. Somehow she'd managed. Valeraine still shuddered at the memories. And all the while she had wanted to kill him… to end his torment. Had it gone on much longer… she might have been tempted.

As it was… Phillip had arrived and dragged a wildly swinging Nick off of her and impaled him. Together they'd managed the restraints… getting him strapped down in his bed before he'd awakened and begun to struggle once more. He'd kept it up for several hours.

Only after Phillip had left with the others had Nick calmed down, as if finally accepting the situation… that Valeraine would never let him free. Only then had he quieted. Now he seemed withdrawn. Valeraine knew it was simply the calm before the next storm.

His palm rose slowly in the restraint and lay softly on her arm.

Valeraine pulled back. For a moment… it was Nick once more… trying to let her know. Then a hard smile crossed his face and a hum erupted from his throat. Nestor was back… and in control… and he didn't care if she knew. The palm reached for her again… sliding along her arm like a snake. Then it dropped to her leg and began rub her inner thigh.

Valeraine pushed it away. "You must not be hungry. In that case… maybe we'll read for a while." Scooting the chair back she reached for the next book in the stack and opened it to the first page. This was a long one… and it was in English… Nick's first language. "Chapter One… I am born," she began.

-----

He tuned her out. This one was easy. She read in a modern language that the host body was familiar with… but one he did not really know.

He could be patient. He'd learned patience over the millennia. She'd have to take a break eventually. He'd work on the mortal woman then. Meanwhile, he used the time to worry away at the mind of his young bride. He hadn't been able to finish with her… to make the connection permanent… but it had been enough to link her to him once she'd died and had become immortal. He could whisper in her dreams now and send her images of glorious carnage. Eventually she'd strike out and condemn herself before the others. Eventually… she would be drawn to find him. At that time… she'd kill him to be rid of him and then she would become him. Nestor would be beautiful once more… and he would engineer the endgame. Even now she slept. He focused on a particularly lovely image of one of his early kills. She was so close… soon… she would join him of her own free will.

-----

****

Paris

Alisaunne moaned within her dream as the blood from the gash pooled like ruby droplets on the stone floor. The knife was cool in her hand. She reached forward to dip her fingers into the cooling blood and felt the slickness of the fluid. She raised her fingers to her face and ran them along her throat. "_Lick them… taste it_," the voice oozed. "_So rich… there's nothing like it. Bathe in it… drink your fill_."

"No!" She struggled out of the dream and sat up shuddering. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. She felt Amanda sit beside her and hug her. But it wasn't Amanda she wanted. Shrugging her off, Alisaunne rose and paced the room… looking about. "Where's Duncan?"

"He went to get us some food." Amanda sat back on the couch, eyeing Alisaunne evenly. "Who haunts your nightmares?"

Alisaunne's head snapped up and she hissed at Amanda. "What do you know?"

"I know what Nestor did to you… what he wanted to do to me… what killing him did to a friend of mine." Amanda shrugged. "Maybe it would help to talk to another female. As I understand it from Duncan… you've been with him and Ian since becoming immortal. I just thought you might just need a shoulder to cry on."

Alisaunne glared at her. "I need no one's shoulder. Duncan has trained me to be an effective killer. That's what all of this is about… isn't it? Killing one another?"

Amanda's eyes widened. "Perhaps. But from my perspective of almost twelve hundred years… it's more about living… and continuing to live."

Alisaunne blanched. "Twelve hundred… years?" She sat heavily in one of the chairs. "Could anyone live so long?"

"I'm not the oldest. There are several older than I am." Amanda offered a little smile and a shrug. "We survive by being very, very careful."

"How old was Nestor?"

Amanda shook her head. "I don't know for certain. The body he was using came from a battle about two thousand years ago. I was told the immortal who took him was very young. My friend, the one who killed Nestor a few years ago, was also very young."

"Duncan said when we die… that's it. When we lose our heads, it's all over. How can he still exist?"

Amanda shifted. "I take it Duncan never explained dark quickenings to you?"

"He mentioned them… but he seemed uncomfortable with talking about them."

Amanda leaned forward. "He's had personal experience with one. Overcoming it was a testament to his sense of self and strength of character. Usually… no one dares take the chance."

"Duncan was like Nestor?"

Amanda straightened, running a hand through her short dark hair. "I didn't see him then. He's never really talked to me about it. He remembers it all… and I think it worries him. Nestor taunted him at the end… that the darkness was still there, that all he had to do was reach for it."

Alisaunne sat back thoughtfully. Was this the dark attraction she'd felt for him since the beginning? He had been touched by the darkness of evil as she had been. He'd fought free of it… but it was still there… smoldering beneath the surface. Did he sense the darkness welling up in her… and wish to possess it? She closed her eyes and thought of how he'd felt yesterday leaning against her and consoling her. She licked her lips. "Where's your friend now?"

Amanda shook her head. "I don't know for certain. But Alisaunne… he cannot hurt you. Not now."

Alisaunne smiled. His hurting her was not a worry. But she'd have to find him… kill him… and consume him. She knew that now. In order to be free of him… she'd have to consume him.

At that moment, Duncan returned with a bag of fast food, newspapers, and maps. "Good," he said with a smile, "you're up. Let's eat, and then we need to make some plans."

-----

__

Within the dream

Carl Robinson was tired of running. He'd been running through the swamps for longer than he could remember. Behind him the sounds of the baying hounds and the angry Klansmen punctuated the night. Slipping on the muddy bank he fell once more into the brackish water. He counted to three and then rose once more with determination and began to run through the water once more.

Before him was more swamp. In fact… Carl could almost swear that although he'd been running in a straight line, he'd passed this stand of trees before. Pausing, he considered climbing the bank and exploring the trees. Something was amongst them… something he needed.

The sounds behind him closed in again… louder and more urgent. Carl snarled back at them. He had to get away. He moved powerfully through the knee-high water… swinging his arms back and forth as he ran. He was so tired of running… but what else was there?

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"He still refuses to enter the scenario. He's too caught up in his fear," Wilderman managed to say.

Rawlins glared at him. "Next time… force him in."

"I've told you before… sometimes their nightmares are stronger than any scenario I can devise. He knows that he needs what's there… but his fears keep causing him to run. Already his vitals are weak. He'll die before much longer."

Rawlins shrugged. "And then he'll regenerate… and we'll start again." He rose and came within an inch of Wilderman's face. "I want results. Force the issue… make him enter the game." Rawlins' eyes narrowed with hostility. "He's shown the most aggression of all of them… I want him in the game."

Wilderman swallowed and nodded. This job was getting worse all the time. He nodded at Claire. "Bring him around to the gateway again… I'm going to try a different drug combination." He busied himself with the vials and a syringe, and when Claire indicated that Robinson was coming around once more… Wilderman injected the new drug solution into the IV and ran it full open. The results were astounding.

-----

__

Within the Dream

Carl fell forward into the water. A huge sonic boom and a white-hot fire that singed the earth silenced the sounds of the hunt behind him. The clothes were burned from his body… and he felt as if he were on fire. Carl stood in the sizzling water and stared at his glowing hands.

To his right… in a stand of trees a siren's song that spoke of cool water and joy wavered on the air. Slowly Carl looked back at the burnt landscape. He alone remained. The Klansmen had been destroyed… and he would now claim the prize that awaited him.

He climbed the bank and entered the copse of trees… seeking the source of the music… and the light that had saved him… the light which had chosen him… to be the one.


	79. Chapter 76

****

Chapter 76

Outside of Paris

Grace Chandel shifted in the passenger seat as John pulled off to the side of the road and shut down the engine.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked.

"We're almost to Paris. I want to stop and call the number we were given." John's creased face broke into a wistful smile. He caressed one side of her face softly. "I don't want to take any chances with our next move. I won't put you in danger."

Grace raised a hand to cover his. "Where you go… I go also." Sometimes she considered how she had found this man… how gentle he was… how thoughtful… and wondered how he had ever managed to rid himself of the darkness of his soul. He'd done so much in his long life… and had done so without a conscience. He'd raped and murdered and used others across six continents… and he'd never given it a second thought. But she had never known that man… although she'd heard of him.

"_Kage_," immortals whispered fearfully when the worst of them were named. Kage had not been the worst, but most had thought if there were a way to survive, he would be the one to find it. Not the strongest warrior, no, that had been the Kurgan. Not the most evil… not even the most devious… but perhaps the smartest.

How was it he'd changed so thoroughly in so short a time? Grace had no doubt about his honest change of heart. She'd been with him long enough to see for herself that it was true. At first she'd traveled with him as a companion… watching him… helping him with the mortals he tried to help. Finally she had joined with him… finding in his gentleness… the mirror of her own. And in his desire to atone for his past, a reason for her to continue to hope that the game might have a different outcome than the one she feared.

"Wait here… I won't be but a few moments," he said and climbed out of the car to walk to the payphone. He made a call and then returned to the car. "It's set."

"Do you think we can trust him?"

"Honestly?" John paused. "I don't know. But we have to try. Hatchell said we could… and he apparently died for helping us." John shook his head sadly. "Such a waste of life… such a waste."

"Then if he chose to sacrifice his life for us… we should do all we can to honor that sacrifice," she added.

John nodded as he started the car. "We have about an hour. If I've timed this right… we should arrive at the cemetery with ten minutes to spare. If anything looks odd or out of place… we'll leave." He reached over to lace his fingers with hers for a moment, squeezed her hand, and then pulled out onto the busy street.

-----

Joe hung up the phone and ran one hand through his beard and then around to scratch the back of his neck. Kage and the Chandel woman were in Paris. And if Kage had made the call, then something had already happened to Hatchell and his friends.

"Damn!" he said aloud to no one in particular… and then looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. No one was.

"René," he shouted to his bartender. "I've got to go out… watch the place!"

"_Oui_, _Monsieur_ Joe," his employee said, wiping his hands on his bar apron. "I will watch as always."

Joe raised an eyebrow and grinned. He wondered if René had any idea of the irony of his words. He pulled his coat on and left through the back entrance, pulling his car out of the alley and into the street. Slowly he turned left and proceeded down the street. Immediately, and as expected, he saw the back _Mazda _pull out. "Gotcha!" he smirked and turned into the boulevard and headed for the tower. He'd lose him in the warren of streets near there… everything was set.

Twenty minutes later he pulled to a stop and climbed out at a light while Georges Gautier, Pierre's grandson climbed in. Joe vanished into the crowd as Georges drove off. Turning he slowly made his way to the substitute car.

"I know this sounds hokey," Burt had said. "But trust me… they won't expect it… so it'll work."

Joe hoped so… he truly did as he climbed into the car. He started the engine and drove north the rest of the way to the tower… bypassing it on the north and crossing the _pont de l'Alma_ to the far side. Then he worked his way west to the _Cimetiere de Passy_. He pulled in and parked. Before he got out… Joe checked his gun to be certain it was loaded. Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of the car and began to wander among the graves. They had his description… they'd contact him if they felt safe. He leaned heavily on his cane and stood over a grave off to one side… near a stand of trees.

"Joe Dawson?" the soft male voice asked gently.

Joe looked up and around, seeing no one. "That's me."

A female voice asked, "Henri's daughter… what's her name?"

Joe grinned. "Estelle." He heard them cautiously step out of the bushes and he turned to greet them. "Sorry about the cloak and dagger, but my son-in-law seemed to think it might be necessary."

"He is also a Watcher?" Grace Chandel asked.

Joe stared into her luminous eyes and understood immediately what has so captivated Duncan MacLeod centuries ago. "No… my daughter is though, and we need to be careful so that she's not next on their target list."

"Why is this group killing it's own people?"

Joe stared at the man whose Chronicle he'd once studied because it had crossed paths with MacLeod a few times. James had been Kage's watcher in Cambodia in the 1970's. What he'd witnessed there had helped drive his brother-in-law mad. Joe nodded. "Those in charge of this group evidently find many of us expendable. I'll answer all of your questions… but please… we need to go."

"Where is Duncan?" Grace asked.

Joe shook his head. "I don't know exactly. But he'll contact me. Please." He motioned toward his car. "We need to go before we are noticed."

They climbed in with him… and Joe pulled out and headed back to the center of Paris.

"Where are we going?" Kage asked.

"A safehouse. One we rented recently and one we've made certain would be off their radar. We've been very careful."

"How many of us have been captured?" Grace asked.

Joe sighed. "We're not certain. About fifty immortals are unaccounted for. Now that might mean they're dead in combat and we missed it… or they're just hiding out somewhere… or…" his voice trailed off.

"Hatchell said you've been watching us for millennia," Kage said.

Joe nodded. "Some of our records go back thousands of years. Some of the oldest ones are in languages no one can translate." He smiled thinking of the one immortal who could likely translate them. Hell, he probably already had. "We just wanted to keep a record of your lives for when you were all gone."

"But something went wrong," Kage said.

Joe nodded. "Something went wrong."

Thirty minutes later he backed into the garage attached to the house Burt had secured for them and closed the garage door. Shrugging, Joe motioned the couple to follow him into the house.

Inside Marie Chezlon was fussing about in the kitchen. "_Bonsoir_, Joseph. I shall have _potage et croissants_ ready for all of you. Please… make yourselves comfortable." The old woman beamed at Grace. "I so admire you _Madame_ Chandel. I watched you for many years and I am so pleased to finally meet you. My daughter, Claudette became a doctor because I was inspired by your life. I used to tell her stories about you when she was a child." Marie shrugged. "She thought they were just stories of course. But they inspired her."

Grace blushed slightly as she removed her scarf and coat. "Thank you," she murmured. "Is there a place I might wash up?"

Marie showed her to the bathroom while Joe led Kage into a sparsely furnished dining room. "We only moved in a few bare essentials," Joe said pulling out a chair. "Just enough to make it comfortable if we had to use it."

Kage nodded and looked around. Seeing that Marie had returned to the kitchen and that Grace had the door shut, he leaned close to Joe. "I want some answers. Hatchell was killed before he could tell us much."

Joe nodded. "I was afraid of that when you made the call. Damn! He was a good man."

"He gave his life for ours… that we could escape. He had one life… and he gave it selflessly for ours. What makes us so important?"

Joe shook his head. "Amy… that's my daughter… says the group is now looking for the oldest surviving immortals… the older the better. You my friend… are one of the oldest male immortals left. Most of you have killed one another off."

Kage nodded somberly. "Yes… we who live by the sword are doomed to perish that way." He narrowed his gaze at Dawson. "You don't like me very much."

"Let's just say I know who you were. When MacLeod spared your life in Seacouver… I told him he was a fool… that you were pulling a con."

"You knew MacLeod even then?"

Joe nodded. "I think he's the best of all of you."

Kage settled back in the chair nodding. "Yes… you're probably right." He glanced up as Grace entered and his expression softened as he regarded her. "Feel better?"

Grace had let her dark hair down and combed it. "Yes… much better." She leaned over to kiss Kage's brow and then settled down beside him… holding his hands. "So… Mr. Dawson…"

"Joe… please."

Grace smiled. "Joe. How do we contact Duncan?"

"I'll have to wait until he contacts me. It's better if I don't know where he is. They really want him."

"But he's very young… compared to us," Kage interjected.

"Yeah… but he's killed a couple of really old ones… He may be the most powerful immortal alive today. They've likely been after him for some time… but only recently got on to his trail. He's still trying to stay under the radar."

"I always thought he was special," Grace murmured with a small smile. Then she met Kage's gaze and rubbed one hand along his arm. "But you are special too," she assured him. She leaned close to kiss him. Their foreheads touched and they rested their brows against one another's for several moments.

As he watched, Joe realized he was seeing two immortals who were as strongly committed to one another as any two he'd ever seen. For a moment he thought of Methos and Ellie… and wondered if the kind of commitment his friends had with one another was possible for other immortals. His reverie was interrupted by Marie's arrival with the steaming soup tureen. Kage rose to help her with it and Grace turned to get bowls and flatware from the nearby buffet for all of them. Marie returned to the kitchen to bring the croissants and the four of them settled down for a quiet meal.

-----

Later, once Marie had left for the evening, Joe answered their questions about the history of Watchers… and what they knew of the two of them and their long lives.

"This is a new cell phone I just bought," Joe said, handing it to Kage. "As is this one." He held up his. "Only you, and MacLeod and a few others have this number. Call me if you need anything. I have to get back… They watch me as well… but I'll stay in touch as often as I can."

"You'll tell MacLeod to call us," Kage directed.

Joe nodded with a small salute. "Will do." He let himself out and drove away. He still had to make the return trip… and get his own car back. It would be late by the time he got home. Hopefully… the day's efforts had been worth it.

-----

Avril Mischkov leaned back in his chair and listened to the phone report. "And you're certain all Dawson did was drive about Paris all afternoon?" He nodded at the reply. "He's at home now? You've actually seen him… not just his car?" He swiveled a bit and tapped the fingers of his left hand against his thin lips. "No… I'm certain all is fine. Keep an eye on him until your relief shows up. I'm now putting him on twenty-four hour surveillance."

After hanging up Mischkov snarled. Evidently Dawson had managed to give his Watcher the slip for a few hours and the man hadn't a clue. Well that would change tomorrow. He'd put his best man on Dawson. Something was going on! And Dawson had to be at the center of it.

Shoving back from his desk he left his office. "I'm going home. Forward all calls to my cell," he directed his secretary. He needed to focus and clear his mind. And there was only one place he could adequately do that… his apartment.

Avril Mischkov had already decided it would be a long, cleansing night.


	80. Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Northern California

Matt, Katya and Amber walked silently through the deserted mountain cabin. Matt leaned over and righted a fallen chair.

"I'd say they have them," Katya murmured as she stood with her hands on her hips, looking around. "Wasted trip," she added pointedly.

Amber stirred some food lying on the floor with fork. "Can'ta been long. Coupla' days."

"They held the two of you for several days. Maybe Jade and Jeremy are being held nearby."

Katya pulled the map out. "You think this facility north of San Francisco might need to be searched… even with only the three of us."

"I'd say we can't wait," Matt said grimly as he left.

"Ya heard the man. It appears that this one is personal."

Katya laughed, shaking her head. "And here I thought that everything was business with him." The two immortals quietly followed Matt to the car and climbed in as he pulled out.

"Don't we need to be makin' a plan?" Amber suggested from the back seat.

"Go in guns blazin'," Matt said darkly. "Kill them all."

"Is that the FBI way?" Katya asked.

Matt glanced in her direction and shook his head. "No… that's the immortal way. They have no right to mess in our lives this way. They don't deserve to live."

"Old girlfriend?" Katya asked.

Matt said nothing. It wasn't that. His relationship with Jade had been over with for centuries. His anger had more to do with the idea that anyone was messing with their lives. Immortals had a rough enough time watching the world age and change around them… watching people they came to care for grow old and die. They either changed with the times… or they became lost in the passing of the centuries. Matt had focused much of his touchstone of reality to the law. The law was exact. The law was precise. With the law… a man knew where he was. These Watchers operated outside the law… and he would deal with them… outside of the law. He floored the accelerator when he hit the highway, thankful that neither woman had anything to say.

-----

An hour later they pulled to a stop in a rocky mountainous area overlooking an isolated ranch. Matt scrambled down into the shrubs by the side of the road and peered through his binoculars getting the feel of the comings and goings. This facility was occupied… unlike the last one.

Amber crawled up beside him.

"What?" he snorted.

"We can't go in guns blazin' and ya know it," she said softly.

He smiled noting how much thicker her Irish brogue became at times. "Oh… then you have a better idea?"

"We canna kill them. If we do… then we're no better than they think we are."

Matt rolled over to one side and stared at her. "You have another idea?" Slowly he smiled at her discomfort.

"No…" Amber slowly shook her head. "But we need to think about this a bit. We don't know for certain these are Watchers… nor do we know yar friends are being held here. We need to be certain."

"Sounds to me like you're volunteerin' again."

Amber nodded. "I'm the youngest and you two are the better fighters"

"Are you certain about that?"

Amber blushed. "I'm good Matt, but I'm no' that good. I'd rather find another way. Surely with all yar years in law enforcement… ya can come up with somet'in' better than going in with guns blazin'."

Matt nodded. "Actually… I have a few ideas." He winked. "And they do involve a volunteer."

"Then I'm yar volunteer."

-----

****

Paris

Joe unlocked his front door and turned on the light. In the shadows to one side he saw Ellie curled into a chair.

"I was worried," she said. "You were so late. Have you learned anything?"

Joe shook his head and through the bolt on the door and tossed his keys into the dish on the table. "I forgot this was the night you'd be stopping by. I got side-tracked."

"Anything about Methos?" He could hear the urgency in her voice. As she moved into the light he noted how bad she looked… as if she were being drained of life.

"Are you sleeping?"

Ellie shook her head as she rubbed her arms. "When I sleep I dream… and they're not my dreams."

"When was the last time you ate?"

She threw her hands up and began to pace. "Who can eat? Joe… I _have_ to find him. If you can't help… say so… I'll try something else."

"Like slicing up a Watcher?" he snapped far more sharply than he intended.

"What?"

"You heard me. One of our people was sliced up at _St. Julien's_. They've been watching the place. Evidently someone spotted you near there and they've been watching for you."

"You think I… oh… that." Ellie sat down suddenly.

Ellie bit her lip and shook her head as she ran one hand through it, her fingers tangling in the braid. With a sigh she pulled it loose. "I can't explain, Joe. Just please… I didn't do it."

"You forget… I've seen what you are capable of."

Ellie smiled weakly. "Actually… you haven't. You've seen only the barest glimmer of what I'm capable of. Could I have sliced your friend up? Yes. Given the provocation I would have and not even thought twice about it. Did I?" She paused shaking her head. "Not this time. That wasn't me. I stopped her."

"Who?" Joe wanted to know, leaning over her.

"She's young… and confused."

Joe straightened with a sigh. "Well I hope you dealt with her. I know this situation is bad… but if you guys go around killing us… things are gonna get ugly again. I'm tryin' to keep the lid on things. You've got to let me… and my friends… deal with our own kind. We make mistakes… we clean up the mess."

Ellie flashed him a brief smile. "I appreciate your help Joe… I really do. But you have to understand… we immortals have the right to fight for survival. It's what we do… and while we usually fight against one another… if mortals know how to kill us… then we have the right to strike back."

"Yeah… well…" Joe rubbed a hand through his white hair and shook his head. "We're making progress. I managed to get two of your people into protective custody today."

"Who?"

"Kage… and Grace Chandel… Why are you smiling?" Joe sat in the chair across from her.

"Oh… I kinda introduced them to one another in Africa years ago. There was spark then… I just wondered if there still were."

Joe nodded with a chuckle. "They've been together since 1995. Did you know him before?"

Ellie shook her head. "Not really. I'd heard of him, of course. But I seldom had dealings with too many immortals. Grace I'd met centuries ago as we were both working as midwives in Paris. But Kage I didn't meet until after the killing field in Cambodia."

"That was bad… in more ways than one."

Ellie nodded. "I saved a Watcher back then. Kage's Watcher." She met Joe's gaze. "Do you know how that made me feel in later years to know I'd saved the life of James Horton… the man who killed Darius?"

Joe nodded. "He was my brother-in-law. Do you know how that has weighed on my soul? I thought I knew him… and I missed all the signs."

"And all our sins come back to plague us." Ellie finished re-braiding her hair and rose. "I need to go."

"There's still someone outside watching. He may be there for a while. I wasn't exactly subtle in losing my tail earlier and I think they know it. They're probably gonna watch me closely for a while."

Ellie sighed. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and Joe noticed again how very tired she seemed. Once again he had the impression that life was draining out of her.

"Have a seat… Let me fix you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"A bath? I mean you and those clothes you're in look as though they've seen better days."

Ellie looked down at her flannel shirt, T-shirt, and jeans. "Seems I've been down this road before." She faced him bravely. "I've been using the sewer to travel. Cleaning up just means I'll get dirty again. I'm fine Joseph… I really am. I just need to find Methos… as soon as possible." She headed into his kitchen to the back door that led onto a small fenced patch of yard.

"Wait," Joe handed her a cell phone. "Please… take it. That way when I hear from MacLeod… you can talk to him."

Ellie shook her head. "I'll be in touch." She smiled. "Everything's fine. No one will see me at the church. I'm not there anyway… not really. I just know the area really well. If you need me… if you learn anything… stop by. Then leave. I'll know… and I'll make contact… either here or at the bar." She slipped through the backdoor and out into the darkness.

By the time Joe made it to the door to close and lock it… there was no sign that she'd even been there.

-----

After they'd eaten Duncan lay out a map of Paris and checked coordinates from his PPC. "My friends in America say they've seen a map that had a spot marked… here." He punched his finger down on the location and tapped it thoughtfully.

"How accurate could a pinhole in a map be?" Amanda smirked. Duncan's finger was tapping the River Seine. Quickly he picked up a marker and circled the area.

"So we search in that area for a likely holding. They generally like old estates… with large grounds for security."

Alisaunne cleared her throat. "You think they have Ian in this place?"

He met her gaze and nodded. "And we're going to get him back."

She leaned close to the map and stared at what was there. Then she pulled out another map… of tourist sites. She began coordinating the two maps, slowly marking "X's" over areas they could safely ignore. There were three good size areas left within Duncan's circle. She smiled. "One for each of us."

Duncan nodded with a wicked smile. "But we stay in touch… and out of sight. No moves until we find them." He raised a finger at Alisaunne. "Promise me!"

She nodded. The main thing was to get Ian back. "Maybe Eleanor could help."

Duncan and Amanda both stared at her.

"You've seen Eleanor?" the Highlander asked.

Alisaunne nodded. "At _St. Julien's_… she…" Alisaunne rubbed one hand over her brow in confusion. "She stopped me from killing a Watcher."

"What?" Both Amanda and Duncan stared at her. Duncan grabbed her arms. "Killing a Watcher? What did you do? What happened?"

Alisaunne shook her head. "I'm not certain. It's like a dream. There was this Watcher grabbing me… and I began knifing him… and then Eleanor came and took me away." Alisaunne looked at them both; the tears began to run from her eyes. "It was before I knew about Ian… but she was there. And then I wanted to get back to the hotel… and I was back on the street again." She ran a hand through her hair. "It was like going to sleep and ending up in some other world… like passing through darkness and coming up in a fairy-land where time does not flow. I felt at home…" She met Duncan's gaze. "As if I'd been there before… with Uncle Jacques… with Darius."

"Do you know how to get back?"

Alisaunne shook her head. "Until just now… I thought it was a dream." She backed away and sat down on the sofa thoughtfully… as if trying to make sense of her thoughts. "It had to be a dream. Eleanor and that boy… He didn't like me very much."

"Derrick? You saw Derrick?"

Alisaunne nodded. "Is that his name? I didn't remember. He was very uneasy around me." She laughed suddenly. "He hated being there… he hated _my_ being there."

Amanda looked at Duncan and whispered, "Could they have been in Paris all this time? Without anyone knowing it?"

Duncan shook his head. "I don't know… I don't think so. Joe said Ellie came looking for Methos a few weeks ago. I saw her at _St. Julien's_ as well the other evening… albeit briefly." He pulled out the cell phone and dialed Joe's number.

"Joe… it's me. We need to talk."

-------------------------  
**Author's Note**: Immortals **Jeremy Dexter** and **Jade** are canon characters from **Highlander: _The Raven_** and their characterizations are based on the episodes they appeared in.  
  
Jade was a competitor of Amanda as a thief. Jeremy was a friend and had worked with her. In the show... they were in different episodes. Their relationship with one another and with Matt McCormick is my creation based on what little information I have about them.


	81. Chapter 78

****

Chapter 78

Taranto, Italy, early morning

Dawn was just beginning to break in the eastern sky. It would be a gray and cloudy day Reagan could tell… unusual for southern Italy this time of year.

"Must be storms on the Mediterranean," she said to Keith.

"Hmmm," he said, looking up sleepily. "Are we there? Where do we meet this immortal we're supposed to meet? Do you know him?"

"I met him once… long ago. He's no one you want to fool with Keith. He's very, very… very good. My friend Kyra knew him when she was young. If he asks you to jump, jump as high as you can. Don't even ask how high… just do it."

Keith nodded with a grin. "I'll keep that in mind. So what's his name?"

Reagan shook her head. "I don't know for certain. He was Gerard something or other in France when I ran across him a few hundred years ago."

"A few hundred years," Keith shook his and chuckled. "I wonder if I'll ever get to say that someday?"

"With heart, and courage, and steel, young grasshopper."

Keith snorted. "Cute… very cute. I'm waxing poetic and you're trolling for pop culture references."

Reagan shrugged as she pulled on to the _via Roma_. "Survival is all about learning to adapt to the time, the place, and the culture. It's important to be able to reference modern pop culture… it keeps people from knowing how old you are."

Keith laughed. He rather liked Reagan Cole. He'd not really spent time around other immortals… being far more into the "kill them before they kill you" frame of mind. Or the "let's pass by as this isn't convenient." Maybe it was time he got to know some other immortals once this was over. Of course that didn't mean he wouldn't be prepared… just in case. After all… keeping his head was his first priority.

"Here's the fountain we were told to look for." Reagan pulled over and parked. "Wait here." She climbed out, adjusting her long coat. Then she walked toward the fountain and stood there looking about in the early morning gloom.

"She looks like some dark avenging angel in that black leather coat," Keith mused as he slumped down in the passenger seat and peered out at her as she circled the fountain. Black against the pale stone of the street, the fountain, and the surrounding buildings… Reagan Cole made a tempting target. Keith felt the approach of another immortal from behind the car… and the sudden tapping on the window startled him even as he saw a pair of young people approach Reagan.

Glancing through the window, Keith saw the small face of an Oriental boy smiling at him… his dark eyes bright with amusement. Nervously Keith straightened and lowered the window a crack.

"Open up," the boy said in English.

Keith looked at Reagan speaking with the boy and girl at the fountain. The boy was about fourteen… the girl about the same. They held hands like a young teen couple out for a stroll… but so early? Reagan motioned toward the car and all three were coming.

"Open up," the boy at the window said once more. "We don't like being exposed right now."

"We?" mumbled Keith… waiting for Reagan's sign to open the door.

He heard a loud sigh from the boy.

Just then Reagan motioned and Keith leaned over to unlock the car.

"Well you're well-trained boy… I'll give you that!" the boy said as he climbed in beside Keith and slammed the door.

Reagan opened the driver's door while the young couple piled into the back seat… along with a small dark-skinned boy who'd suddenly appeared.

"Watch who's calling who a boy," Keith muttered to the one beside him.

The boy cackled merrily.

"So who are you?" Keith wanted to know.

"The fearsome foursome!" laughed the younger boy in the back seat, as he collapsed back in the seat holding his sides.

Keith rolled his eyes. "Great. We come looking to meet a wise old warrior and we get_ Les Immortel Enfants_!"

The older boy and the girl joined the younger boys in their laughter. Then he met Keith's gaze and sobered. "I'm Micah. This is Madrigal… Denis… and Chou. We may be small… but there is more to us than you can imagine."

Reagan started the car. "So, where to?"

Micah directed her in which direction they'd need to go to meet the Swordmaster… and Reagan complied.

"So who is this swordmaster… exactly?" Keith asked as they drove off.

Chou grinned up at him. "Our swordmaster… what else?"

Keith crossed his arms in front of him. "Everyone's a comedian." He was surrounded by laughter once more.

Twenty minutes later, Reagan pulled off onto a dirt road that led through a vineyard.

"Stop here," Micah directed. "Now just turn the ignition off and let's get out."

"All of us?" Reagan asked nodding towards Keith.

"Well… he's young… but maybe we can use him," chortled the diminutive Chou once more as he alighted from the car. He motioned Keith out.

"Just watch it Short Round!" Keith shot back as he stood to tower over the boy.

The boy grinned at him. "Guess that means I call you Indiana!"

Keith slammed the car's door and accompanied the two smaller boys into the rows of grapevines. "We named the dog Indiana," he mumbled to the accompaniment of the boys. Maybe he should rethink his consideration of these four. They were obviously older than they looked… and likely older than he was. He'd heard tales of immortals who'd died as children… but he'd been told they seldom lasted very long, as they couldn't really compete. Keith had a sinking feeling if he did anything… it would be _his_ head that would roll.

He felt someone ahead… someone powerful… and halted.

Not far ahead… examining the vines was a barrel-chested man with longish unstyled brown hair and a brown beard. He grinned at Keith. "Do we have a problem young one?" The man slapped his hands together to rid them of dirt as he rose and stood easily.

Keith sensed something in the man's movements that although they seemed absolutely benign, they were laced with danger. Keith shook his head.

The man grinned and spread his arms, "Little Reagan… look at you!" He took three steps toward Reagan and gave her a brotherly hug… then held her away. "You haven't changed! As lovely as ever!"

Reagan ran a hand through her hair. "Well my hair is a different color."

He laughed.

"What name do I call you this time?" she asked.

After thinking a moment he asked her, "What name did I use last time?"

"I'm not certain… Gerard something or other."

He shrugged. "Call me Phillip. It's the name I'm using these days." He peered again at Keith. "And what do you go by these days."

Keith grinned and told him.

Phillip nodded. "Yes… I heard about you. Word is you could go either way."

Keith met his gaze. "I'm just trying to survive."

Phillip smirked, "As are we all. Come then. We need to get under cover again so we can discuss a raid on this place I found. It apparently matches up with a set of coordinates Katya sent."

"I didn't realize you knew Katya," Reagan asked as they walked through the vineyard. She glanced back at the car.

"I don't and the car will be fine while we talk."

"Then how?"

"Duncan MacLeod," he said with a laugh. "A name I _know_ you are familiar with."

"You know Duncan," Reagan smiled teasingly.

"Don't get ideas, little girl he's not my type." With that Phillip roared with laughter.

The one thing Keith was certain of was that this group of immortals despite everything… seemed to have a unique outlook on their existence and maybe on the game itself. If this guy was as good as Reagan had indicated… maybe that was the reason. He had no fear of any of them… and thus felt no need to exhibit his prowess. On the other hand… Keith wondered if his reputation was over-rated and did he really want to find out.

As if reading his thoughts, Phillip turned toward him and winked. "Yes, lad… I _am_ that good… and no… you _don't_ want to test me on that."

Keith swallowed. "Ho… How… How did you know that's what I was thinking?"

"All of you do, lad."

Chou pulled at Keith's sleeve. "He was the swordmaster of Alexander the Great… Ever hear of him?"

With a sudden realization, Keith stared at Phillip. "You're thousands of years old."

"If you say so," Phillip replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He motioned toward a small white stucco house, which the seven immortals entered.

Inside, Keith noted the plain whitewashed walls and the dark wood beams around the doors, windows, and across the ceiling. A massive fireplace covered one wall. A table of the same dark wood stood in the center of the room, surrounded by two mismatched chairs. A full bed with a rolled up mattress that had seen better days was to one side. The room held little else.

Phillip snorted, "One of my safe houses. I have some all over the world. There's seldom little of value in them… They're just a place I can stay if necessary if I'm in the area. You two take the chairs." He gestured to them. On the table Keith saw a map spread out, and some surveillance photos. "We need to make plans," Phillip added. The four children stood around the table, the two small boys… Chou and Denis… leaned their elbows on the table's surface.

"Now then… Let's see what we have," Phillip said and began to sort through everything.

-----

****

Paris

It had been a restful and cleansing night… what there had been of it. Avril Michkov felt more than ready once again to do Henry Rawlins' bidding. Whatever his boss wanted… no matter how distasteful or how dangerous… Mischkov would do it. He'd kill, torture, and kidnap… anyone and everyone. He'd relied too heavily on subordinates lately instead of seeing to things personally. It had been an unfortunate by-product of their early success.

Now that Rawlins wanted all the older ones brought in… before word could spread… Mischkov had opted to coordinate rather than tend to things personally. No longer! He would be hands-on once again and no more immortals would vanish from his grip.

First off… he intended to personally interview… one Joseph Dawson, former Watcher. The old man knew more than he was telling even his protégée, Amy Meyers. Mischkov was tired of waiting for answers.

He pulled into a parking space and waited for the old man to leave his rooms on _Rue de Montcalm_. Dawson was usually regular as clockwork… and Mischkov knew he'd be out momentarily. His activities yesterday had made Mischkov realize that he needed to deal with the former Watcher now… rather than later. If nothing else… he might know where MacLeod or others were hiding. As soon as Dawson appeared… Mischkov would seize him… and get some answers. He was tired of playing nice… and he would have answers. Rawlins wanted Duncan MacLeod… Mischkov would find him.

Avril Mischkov tugged slightly at the immaculate white cuffs of his shirt, feeling the Egyptian cotton tighten across his back. He ran his hands through his thinning hair and calmly made a minor adjustment to the knot of his silk tie. Appearance was everything. Look like a gentleman… and no one gives you a second glance. It had served him well over the years… even long before he'd ever met Henry Rawlins.

Once Mischkov had Dawson… everything else would fall into place. Inside his coat he could feel the cold bulge of his Luger. In an outside pocket he knew was a syringe and a vial of another brand of persuasion… one that would not be as apparent to people who found the old man afterwards. Mischkov grinned in anticipation.

Across the street, Dawson's door opened and the old man came out, leaning heavily on his cane as he maneuvered slowly. Even as he turned to lock the door… Mischkov was on the move… his Luger already in his hand. Reaching Dawson, Mischkov rammed the muzzle into Dawson's back.

"Re-open your door… Mr. Dawson. We need to have… a discussion," he hissed quietly as the old man tensed.


	82. Chapter 79

****

Chapter 79

Northern California

"Are ya certain this is necessary?" Amber asked as Matt taped a hidden microphone to her chest.

"Trust me darlin'… this way we'll know exactly who's down there and what their policy is." Matt stepped away from her. "Now talk to me normally."

"Normally? Well what would ya consider normal?"

Matt held an earpiece up and motioned for her to continue.

"My luv is like a red, red, rose… that's lately come in spring," Amber began.

"That'll do it… nice and clear," Matt grinned. "Now we just have to hope they don't search you too thoroughly."

Amber raised an eyebrow as she snorted at him. "I'll keep that in mind… if I have a choice."

Katya put an arm about the young woman's shoulders and gave her a hug. "Stay strong… we'll be there to help."

Amber nodded and picked up an empty gas can. Her sword was well hidden within her coat… and she had a .38 caliber handgun stuck in the small of her back where she could effectively grab it if she needed to. A Bowie knife was hidden in her left boot. Letting out a big sigh… she smiled with a wave and headed off down the slope toward the ranch house area.

Katya crawled behind the rocks and watched Amber descend to the main road… and then head toward the main gate. "Will they buy her story of being out of gas?" she asked Matt as he settled next to her… the volume control for his earpiece in his hands. He looked at her and shook his head. If these were more of these Watchers… they'd likely shoot first and then drag her in. He'd have to figure out numbers from the voices he heard and hope they didn't find the microphone… at least not until he and Katya had mounted their attack.

Katya sighed and lifted the binoculars. She was "eyes", while Matt was "ears" for this mission… and she wondered if it would be enough.

Twenty yards from the gate… Amber noticed two men with rifles slung on their shoulders, move into the road before the gate. They stared down the road at her.

Amber raised a hand for a wave and lifted the gas can out for them to see. "Hellooooo!" she called out.

The two men seemed to look at one another; then one of them waved back at her.

Amber let her best smile sparkle on her face as she approached… and managed not to reach for a weapon. Her heart pounded in her chest… and she felt as if a cold hand was squeezing her throat. "_Death is here_," she thought as she shivered. Aloud she called out. "I've run out of gas… would ya be havin' some I could buy?" By this time she stood between the two men.

The short one had stringy dirty blonde hair, which hung loose under his straw hat. Dressed like many of the ranch hands of the time, in jeans, plaid shirt, vest, and boots, his pale blue eyes seemed red-rimmed in the late afternoon sun. He squinted at her… then turned and spat tobacco.

The other was a black man… bald beneath his hat and dressed about the same as the other man. The leer on his face made Amber nervous… as if he already knew who and what she was… and what he planned to do. He reached over and took the gas can from her hand. "Follow me… I'm certain we have something to help you. Bob… watch the gate!" He headed into the compound as Amber followed nervously.

Her eyes raked across the compound. "Eight," she said quietly. The man halted and turned back to her quizzically. Amber grinned and shrugged. "Been a couple hours since I last ate… is there any way I could be getting' somethin' to eat while I'm here."

"Might be able to arrange somethin'," the man said.

"Do ya' have a name?" she said trying to make conversation.

"Dwight," he said setting the gas can down next to a tank and flipping the switch to pump her enough gas to fill her can. "This county's not safe for people. It can be deadly to run out of gas."

"Aye," Amber agreed. "Twas my own fault. I shoulda' checked more carefully." Again her eyes moved over the compound. "Looks to be a nice ranch… a fine house… a bunkhouse… a barn. Is it good workin' here?" she finally asked as Dwight finished up.

He nodded. "It's tolerable." He screwed the cap back on and handed her the gascan. "Pay's not too shabby, neither!"

"Oh… and what kind of duties do ya and the other lads have to do here?"

Dwight flipped his rifle up suddenly and fired. As Amber swayed a moment and then sank to her knees, he leaned over and whispered. "I get to take out the trash."

"Damn!" Matt snapped and clambered to his feet. "She's already down and we gotta move."

Katya lowered the binoculars. "I only saw six men… Are you certain she said eight?"

"That she saw… Let's go." Matt scrambled back to the SUV, starting the ignition even as he climbed in. "Hold on… It's gonna get bumpy!"

Katya held on… Matt wasn't kidding… as the SUV descended the mountainside and roared toward the gate. Evidently… Matt was planning on running straight into it.

****

Athens

Standing on a chair enabled Denara to handle some minor cooking chores. It was her size… or rather lack of size… that made cooking difficult. But the swordmaster had said no hired help… and Ursa was useless in a kitchen. So Denara made the attempt. Nothing too elaborate… mainly just heat and eat convenience food.

"If I ever can live on my own…" she grumbled, "I'll be certain the kitchen is scaled for me." Satisfied that the soup was heating nicely and that she could leave it for a bit on simmer, Denara climbed down and went in search of her giant companion.

She found him in the walled courtyard… sitting in the afternoon sun with his eyes closed… his great bladed weapon resting comfortably in his arms. At her approach, Ursa looked up at her. "We need to go back," he said in his low rumbling voice. "Old ones want us to help Nick."

"We have to wait here, Ursa. Phillip said that our being on the island might bring the Watchers back. We _are_ helping Nick and Valeraine… by remaining here… out of sight."

Ursa shook his great head. "Nestor strong… fights to be free. Nick can no longer hold him."

Denara sat on a nearby stone bench… letting her small legs dangle before her. Staring thoughtfully at Ursa, she finally asked him, "How do you know this?"

Ursa shook his head. "Voices in my head."

"Whose voice?"

Ursa shrugged as he continued to shake his head. "Old ones. Sometimes I hear old ones talk. Not like you talk… but pictures."

"You see visions."

Ursa knotted his brows as if contemplating her choice of words. "Pictures of places and people."

"What people? What places?"

"Nick at holy place." Ursa smiled at her. "Like day we went. Need to take Nick there."

Denara considered his words carefully. Ursa's size could not be hidden. If they left this house… whatever Watchers were looking for them would find them. They'd lead them back to the island… and Nick would be vulnerable. If the Watchers killed him… then likely Valeraine or one of them would have to hold Nestor… and Denara feared what then might happen. Phillip was right! They could not return to Niebos until after this was over. Ursa's visions might be important… but Denara knew she was not the one to interpret them. "We have to wait here, Ursa. When Phillip returns… then we can take Nick back to the cove. Then you can do what the pictures tell you… but not now."

Ursa's shoulders sagged in disappointment. He must wait. He had no idea where the island was… or where he was… all he had was an urge to get back there. If he closed his eyes… he could see the cove… as he had seen it even before first going there with the others. He could see the cove… the waves breaking on the rocks… and he could see himself carrying Nick out onto the rock shelf… where a woman with green eyes waited. She had not been there when they'd gone before… so he'd known the time wasn't right. But she would be there soon… and when she was… Ursa needed to take Nick to her.

"Ursa wait," he finally said aloud. "Old ones say soon."

Denara hopped down off the stone bench and pulled him with her into the house. "It's time to eat Ursa," she said.

****

Niebos

After splashing warm water on her face, Valeraine dried it and for a moment buried her face within the plush white towel. She was weary and depressed. Welling up within her was the need to sit down and have a good cry. But she needed to be strong… or at least seem strong… in Nick's presence. She persisted in thinking of him as Nick… she insisted calling him that… despite all signs that there might be nothing left of Nick… or of Marie-France in the creature resting strapped to the bed.

Carefully folding the towel beside the bowl of water… Valeraine quietly returned to her chair and curled up to read another scene from Shakespeare's **_Twelfth Night_**.

A cackle rose from Nick. Obviously he knew she was tired. And just as obviously was testing her resolve to ignore him… and anything from him that resembled Nestor.

He opened his mouth and let out a moan… his hips struggling up and down in some parody of an intimacy that could never be. Then laughter sounded again.

Valeraine wondered how long he could keep this up! She'd promised to stay here… not to leave him alone… but she so wanted to take a walk… breath fresh air… feel the wind on her face… and know that something other than this room still existed in the world.

He cackled again… as if he knew her thoughts. Then the thrashing and moaning began again… interspersed with his laughter. He was enjoying her discomfort.

"I will not listen to this," she finally said, and began to read aloud. The words and the sound of her voice filled her thoughts… she focused on the scenes as she imagined them… and let the play become reality… and reality become the nightmare she was fleeing.

Sometime later she glanced up… aware that Nick's moans had long ago stopped. He let out a great sigh and pounded his palm on the mattress. Yes! Yes! Yes!

Valeraine bit her tongue to keep from asking "What?" and continued to read. Viola was dressed as a boy… and unable to tell the duke of her love. She had to carry his messages to another… "Like Viola," Valeraine sighed sadly, "I cannot speak my love… nor ever hope to gain it."

At a soft knock, she looked up. _Madame_ Kouris entered with a tray of food. As she set it down… the woman clucked, "You really need to get out of here a bit. Why don't you take a short break?"

Valeraine shook her head. "I can't."

"But of course you can. He's strapped in. He's not going anywhere. What could happen?"

Valeraine glanced at the open door and considered it for a moment. He was restrained. If she stayed in the house… only took a short break… if _Madame_ remained… could she dare it?

"Go child!" _Madame_ Kouris motioned gently. "I will remain with him."

Valeraine shook her head. "I can't _Madame_. Nick is my responsibility… not yours. I can understand him… you can't."

__

Madame Kouris laughed gently. "I have taken care of invalids before. My husband… God rest his soul… was bed-ridden for years before he died."

"Nick can be… difficult," Valeraine objected, not really wanting to explain his particular problems to the woman. While the woman had known Phillip since she was a child… and may understand something of his immortality… she likely did not know of Valeraine's… and Valeraine did not want her to learn of Nick's… nor of what remained within him. "I appreciate the offer… perhaps another time," she sighed… all the while eyeing Nick and his understanding of the conversation. While Nick did not really speak Greek… he might have learned some over the years of her reading and translating. But it was likely Nestor who listened and who waited for an opportunity… a lax moment when he could manage a way to be free. Valeraine was determined not to give him such a moment.

__

Madame Kouris nodded as she clasped her hands. "Well… the offer stands, child. If you need a break… I will watch him." She turned slowly and left… closing the door behind her.

Nick cackled.

Evidently he'd understood enough of what they'd said… the tone if not the words… that he knew basically what had transpired. Valeraine let him cackle for several moments… then she began to read once more… purposely ignoring the food on the tray.

Before too much time had elapsed… Nick began slamming his hand into the mattress and moaning. No! No! No! He was evidently hungry… and wanted to eat.

"You need to behave if you wish to eat," the girl said softly, reminding him that she would not tolerate any behavior to the contrary.

Yes! Nick's palm pounded.

Valeraine closed the book and pulled her chair closer to the bed. She reached for bread and tore off a piece… soaked it in the thick broth and offered it to him. Nick snapped at it hungrily… as if he were starved. His mouth closed around her fingers and he applied pressure… sucking at them.

Pulling them free… Valeraine quietly wiped the tears away. She no longer thought Nick Wolfe existed at all.


	83. Chapter 80

****

Chapter 80

Paris

Duncan's conversation with Joe the previous evening had been short. Eleanor had been at Joe's… but had just left. Joe had tried to get her to take a cell phone… but she'd refused. He'd tell her to contact Mac if and when he saw her again.

"Mac… it's best if I don't know where you are or how to contact you… they're watching me very closely right now."

"Stay safe, Joe," Duncan had said before shutting his cell phone off. "We can't wait for Eleanor to contact Joe again… we need to move tonight to find Ian."

After dressing in dark clothes… and they'd driven to the area where they'd begun their painstaking search. Duncan had hoped… if Ian were there… they'd feel him. But if he was in the area… they had no sign of him… nor did any of the estates look overly suspicious. By dawn… they'd found perches to survey the comings and goings of individuals in the area… trying to determine if anything was suspicious. No guards… other than uniformed ones at the tourist sites could be observed. Despondent… they'd regrouped at their car.

"There were three pin-holes in the Paris area," Duncan said. "So now we'll hit the second one."

Amanda reached out a hand to caress his arm in sympathy. Duncan smiled at the gesture… lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. Then he pulled her into an embrace… wishing once more that they were back at the inn and on their own.

Alisaunne suddenly snapped her fingers. "I have an idea!"

"What?" Duncan replied.

"That Watcher at _St. Julien's_… perhaps he'll be back. I can go there. He might be willing to tell us where they're holding Ian."

"We are not taking a chance in going there right now!" Duncan said, shaking his head. "Maybe later. Maybe at night."

"Besides," Amanda added, "How do you plan on getting him to talk to you? Will you torture him?"

Alisaunne straightened and threw her shoulders back. "If I have to."

"No!" ordered Duncan.

"But…" the young woman's lower lip trembled. "But you tortured that one in Tunis… if that was all right… why not now?"

Duncan sighed, shaking his head. "First of all I merely frightened him… I didn't hurt him… not really." The Highlander was increasingly aware that there was a dark and bloodthirsty edge developing in Alisaunne. It was to be expected, he supposed, which was why students were usually sent off to be on their own after their first kill. That had been his original plan… a plan that was now in shambles. "Secondly… I don't want to expose our movements or intentions to the Watchers. It's better that they don't realize how much we know."

Amanda's voice suddenly interjected quietly, "I know him!" She leaned closer to Duncan and peered over his shoulder at the man walking briskly up the street. "Don't turn to stare!" She clapped a hand on Duncan's chin as he started to turn and kissed him… but her eyes were on the Watcher. Pulling away slightly she explained. "He was one of the men at the airport that Cory and I evaded. He's the one I slammed my suitcase into." She arched her eyebrows with a grin.

The Watcher… seeing only a couple embracing and a young woman he did not recognize… passed them by and continued up the street.

When Alisaunne started after him… Duncan grabbed her arm. "Just follow at a discreet distance. He may lead us to their site. The young woman nodded and pulled away, strolling after the Watcher.

Duncan, his arm still around Amanda's shoulders… followed some distance behind. To anyone watching… he hoped they appeared to be a romantic couple seeing Paris for the first time. He also kept an eye on Alisaunne… strolling some distance ahead of him and Amanda. He worried she'd do something rash… move too soon… lash out instead of pull in. Duncan had noticed the anger flashing in her eyes earlier… and while he, too, was angry… there was a time for anger… and a time for restraint. This was a time for restraint.

To discover what they needed to know… they needed to use a light hand… the velvet glove over the iron fist… not the fist itself. Duncan felt that too much pressure on a Watcher might make him clam up entirely… besides… Duncan had always felt that honey drew more flies than vinegar. It was an old wives' tale… but a truth nevertheless.

"I'll be the good cop," Amanda chuckled with a knowing grin. "Alisaunne is determined to be the bad one."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Duncan murmured.

Ahead of them Alisaunne's thoughts were much the same. First and foremost… she wanted Ian back. To that end… she was willing to be patient… but only just so. If this Watcher could help… she would have what he knew… if he didn't… then he was unimportant and his death might send a message to his superiors that she meant business.

As their quarry turned onto a side street… Alisaunne sped up… fingering her knife hidden within her coat. Her eyes narrowed… and visions of what she could do with it flashed through her mind as they had for days. Alisaunne followed the man into the sidestreet.

He'd stopped at a newsstand. Alisaunne stepped behind him and pressed her knife against his back. The man stiffened.

"Come with me," she snarled, "quietly or you will die where you stand."

"You wouldn't dare," the man whispered. "Your actions would be seen."

"But you'd still be dead," the girl replied. "You people have someone I care about… I want him back. To that end… you live. If you cannot help or refuse to… I have no qualms about killing you and finding another."

The Watcher replaced the newspaper he was holding onto the stack, flashed a brief smile at the attendant… and said quietly. "Left or right?"

"Left!" Duncan said sharply as he came up beside Alisaunne, and slipped an arm into the Watcher's to propel him along. "Not a word."

Moments later they'd reached an alley. Duncan shoved him against the wall.

Amanda draped an arm over Duncan's shoulder and grinned at their captive. "Hello love… remember me?"

The Watcher nodded, swallowing nervously as he did so. Perspiration beaded on his upper lip.

"Now then…" Amanda pushed Duncan gently to one side. "We can do this my way… or I can let my young friend have her way." Amanda ran a hand lightly through the Watcher's hair. "Such a nice-looking young man. I'd bet if she slices your nose off… you'd find yourself at a distinct disadvantage where the ladies are concerned."

Duncan chuckled as the Watcher's eyes darted toward him. "I think I'll leave you in the ladies' capable hands. He turned to keep watch, noticing that Alisaunne was fingering her knife menacingly. He hoped she understood the difference between threatening to hurt someone… and actually following through on it.

"Please…" the man pleaded, as his eyes followed Alisaunne's every movement. "I know where he is. I can take you there."

Amanda grinned and held his chin in one hand. "That's more like it. Lead the way… and remember… my friend here will make you pay for any betrayal."

Alisaunne flashed the knife before the Watcher's eyes. She did not grin… nor smile.

He got the message and nodded. "It's on _Rue St. Denis_. I'll take you there."

Amanda curled one arm into one of his. "That's all we ask dear boy."

"Bruce Daniels," he added. "That's my name."

Amanda laughed lightly and clutched his arm tightly as Alisaunne took his other one. "Of course it is," the immortal thief chuckled.

Duncan let them pass… and then followed closely. So far… so good. He just hoped that Bruce Daniels truly did know where Ian was.

-----

Avril Mischkov secured Dawson's arms to the arms of a wooden chair with a roll of duct tape. He'd always found it served well… and hurt like hell to be removed. Normally… he'd also have taped the ankles… but Dawson's prostheses had negated that. Instead… Mischkov held up the old man's cane and snapped it in two.

"I doubt you'll be needing that," he sneered as he set the small wooden box containing the syringe and vial of drugs on the table, opening it.

"I'll tell you nothing," Joe snapped at him.

"Oh… this isn't truth serum," Mischkov leered. "This so much more effective." As he filled the syringe and tapped its small plunger so that a few drops spilled from the needle, he continued. "One cc of this and you will feel heat emanate through your body as the drug is carried along through your blood system. At first it is rather pleasant. But as it moves from veins into your heart… you will feel as though your heart is boiling. Then as it travels through your arteries… the fire will make you scream. I know… I endured it to know exactly what it felt like. As it empties into your lungs… every breath you take will be like breathing fire. When it hits your brain… you will feel as though your brain is exploding. At that point… I will threaten you with an additional one cc. Believe me… you will tell me whatever you know to prevent that." Mischkov smiled thinly. "You will sell your soul for relief." He lifted a second vial and waved it before Dawson's eyes. "I _can_ be merciful."

"You sorry son-of-a-bitch! You don't deserve to wear the Watcher symbol." Joe struggled against the tape.

"It is a new order, Dawson," Mischkov said smoothly. "One to which you are not welcome." He poised the syringe over Joe's arm… aiming at the vein along the inner elbow. "I've reduced the dose slightly as you are missing your legs. I only hope I've guessed correctly. Too much at one time will drive you quite mad." Chuckling… Mischkov plunged the needle into Joe's arm and pushed the plunger. "Don't struggle Dawson… it only makes it worse."


	84. Chapter 81

_Yesterday's chapter was a bit short... I shall endeavor to make up for it today._ --elle

**Chapter 81**

**Paris, the night before**

Most of the lights on the main library floor were out. The historians and researchers were all supposed to have left hours ago. Amy had slipped her identity badge into Louise Cannon's purse and pocketed the older woman's during their regular lunch.

When Louise checked out through the scanner… it would read that Amy had left… but Louise would be the one the guard would remember. Hopefully it would be enough. Burt had told her she needed to get the transponder code… and do some exploring of the lower levels.

"Don't get cute," he'd told her. "And don't get daring. Find what you need and get out of there." He'd kissed her then and held her… as if worried he would lose her.

"Hey," she'd told him with a lightness she hadn't felt. "I belong in there. I'm one of the new order's workers. I may not be in the inner circle… but others I may meet won't know that." She bit her lip. "Trust me. I can do this… and none of your people can."

She was right. Any of Burt's people would be immediately killed if seen. Amy was a familiar face… and a known Watcher.

Once certain that the library was deserted… Amy crept out of the stacks where she'd hidden… grabbed a clipboard and pen… and headed purposely toward the elevator. Once in the car, she punched the button for Mischkov's office on the top floor. He kept the codes in there. Exiting the elevator she moved resolutely down the corridor and into the shadows once she'd reached that floor. It was still occupied. The main thing, she knew, was to act as if she belonged here.

Mischkov exited his office and spoke momentarily with his secretary about forwarding calls to his cell phone and left. He'd seemed unusually abrupt as he'd left. Amy held her breath until the elevator doors closed and he was gone.

Peeking out at the secretary, Amy was relieved to see her closing things down. The secretary's voice carried into the hallway. "The old buzzard finally left. Yeah… I'll be home soon. I swear I'm gonna ask for reassignment. I hate these late hours." She punched a code into the office phone that would apparently forward calls to Mischkov and grabbed her purse. Only the security lights remained on once she'd left.

Amy counted to ten afterwards before daring to move. Cautiously she crept through the hallway and into the outer office. She closed the door behind her and crossed to Mischkov's office. Slowly she opened it. Within the darkened office… the only light was from a small electric fountain bubbling softly on a credenza. The drapes were open and outside security lights cast shadows through the wide windows. Amy leaned against the closed door and waited to allow her heart to stop pounding so loudly.

Pulling the small electric torch from her pocket, she gripped it in her teeth as she jimmied and then opened a locked file drawer to sort through some folders until she found hers. She pulled it out and glanced through it. It was a copy of her personnel folder… but with some extra information. There were photos of the twins… and of Burt in addition to ones of her meetings with Joe. She saw a page containing information about her mother and her dead "father." Evidently the truth of her relationship with Joe was still unknown. Amy breathed a sigh of relief. As far as Mischkov was concerned… Joe Dawson was only her mentor and former sponsor in the Watcher Organization and nothing more. The years that the two of them had been estranged evidently were still working in her favor… at least as far as the Watchers were concerned.

She continued to sort through the file… finally noticing a number lightly penciled onto the folder itself. Amy smiled. "There you are!" Swiftly she copied the code onto her clipboard and then closed the file and returned it carefully to the drawer. Her fingers ran over some of the other names she saw on other files. "This goes deeper and farther than we thought," she murmured. Quietly she closed the file drawer… and managed to get it locked again with the small tools Burt had given her.

"Don't ask," he'd chuckled when he'd handed them to her. "Part of my misspent youth." At any rate… they'd done the job. Amy just prayed the Avril Mischkov would not notice anything amiss tomorrow.

Amy shoved the tool kit back into her pocket with the torch. Standing… she smoothed her clothes and crossed to the office door. Inching it open… she peered through the crack… and satisfied no one was there, opened it and crossed to the outer office door. This time she was not so lucky.

In the hall outside was one of the security guards… making his sweep of the floor. And this office was next!

Amy quietly closed the door and raced quietly to the secretary's desk… hiding beneath it and pulling the chair in as far as she could. When the door opened and the light snapped on… Amy closed her eyes and held her breath… certain that at any moment she'd be seen.

The guard opened the door to Mischkov's office and looked around… then retreated. He paused at the door of the outer office and came back in. Amy prayed.

Evidently satisfied that nothing was wrong… the guard left, closing the door behind him.

Amy shivered under the desk. This called for a count of one hundred she was certain. Once finished… she rose unsteadily… aware that she thought her knees would collapse beneath her at any moment. Amy leaned on the desk and gulped in air. Finally feeling calmer… she crossed one more to the door and opened it a crack.

Sighing with relief… she saw no one there. Amy exited the office and crossed to the stairwell and slowly began descending the flights. She checked the exit door on the main floor and knew it would offer an escape. Then she descended to the lower levels. She didn't even know how many there were… and these exit doors she found did not open. Evidently the elevator with its special code key was the only way in… a code key she did not have.

On the lowest level… Amy peered cautiously through the small window in the door to see white-coated figures wheeling two patients on gurneys through the hallway. With no way in… and no authorization to even be in this part of the building… Amy decided she'd gathered all she could. Evidently some of the immortals were here… she couldn't think of who else would be kept down here. She climbed back to the main level and exited onto the library floor.

She grasped Louise's ID in her hands as she strode purposely through the scanner and out the main door. The guard barely looked up as she passed and then returned to his nap.

Once out of the building… Amy crossed to the wooded area on the edge of the parking lot. Two hands grasped her and pulled her into the shadows.

"You're safe… let's get you out of here now."

Amy stared at the man. "Where's Burt?"

"Following Mischkov, I'm Phil Roberts."

Amy nodded. Burt had mentioned Roberts to her. "I'm more than ready to leave," she whispered gladly and accompanied him to the nearby van. Inside she saw a young woman dealing with some electronic surveillance apparatus. Evidently Burt had called in some favors with some of his contacts. These people meant business… and they apparently knew their stuff. The van was on the _Rue Royale_ before Amy relaxed. She gave Roberts the address. "You're to drop me off and get back."

"Yes ma'am…" Roberts said. "Those are our orders."

Amy nodded and prayed that Burt's night would go as smoothly.

-----

"He keeps those drapes closed twenty-four-seven."

Burt peered through the telescope. "Uh huh… what about the mikes?"

John Keller grinned at his boss. "We had a team up yesterday window washing. We managed to set them on the window exteriors. But…"

Burt looked at him. "But what? Aren't you getting anything?"

Keller nodded with a slight grimace. "He lives alone and doesn't seem to do too much talking when he gets in. We've managed to tape a few phone calls he's received… his side of the conversation anyway… but he really doesn't say much. Too bad we couldn't get into the apartment to set a phone bug."

"He uses a cell phone," Burt turned the volume up as he heard a sound rather like a whip. "What the hell?"

Keller shook his head. "That went on for a while last night too."

"What's he doing?"

"No idea, sir."

Burt grabbed a slice of pizza and settled down for the duration. He was determined to get this guy's number and figure out a weakness. "Sounds like he's hitting something or someone."

Keller agreed. "But what? Or who?"

The sounds went on most of the night, stopping only for a phone call. "Yes…" they heard Mischkov say. Then there was a long pause. "Understood." A few moments later the whipping sound continued. An hour later… it stopped and the mike on the bedroom window picked up the sounds of water running.

"Shower? Looks like he may have an early appointment." Keller suggested.

"In that case," Burt rose and stretched. "I'll be below following him."

When Avril Mischkov exited his building… he'd glanced up and down the street warily… then he'd climbed into his car and driven off.

Burt was cut off momentarily by a garbage truck. But soon he was out and moving swiftly down the street. He could just barely see Mischkov's car three blocks ahead in the pre-dawn gloom. When it vanished… Burt realized the Watcher strongman was likely not returning to the main offices. But where?

Sitting hunched over his steering wheel while waiting for the light… Burt suddenly realized just who lived in this direction… "Damn!" He turned against the light and roared down the street. Once again he came up against a garbage truck blocking his way. By the time he reached his father-in-law's building… it was just in time to see both Joe and Mischkov disappear within.

Hurriedly he called Roberts. "I may need some help!" Giving them the address… Burt parked just down the street and crept up a narrow alley, which backed up to Joe's small patch of yard.

Climbing the tall wooden fence… he alighted into the yard and crossed to peer through the small kitchen window. Through it he could see a posturing Mischkov. Burt crouched down against the wall. It would be better to wait for backup… but he feared what Mischkov might have planned for Dawson.

Burt expertly screwed on the silencer and cocked his Walther PPK as he inched closer to the kitchen door. It was locked. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys… quickly finding the one for Joe's apartment. Slowly he inserted the key and… hardly daring to breathe… turned it. The key was for the front door… but with luck it would fit this lock as well. Luck was with him. It did.

Softly and slowly turning the doorhandle… Burt inched the door open and then peered through the crack… he could already hear Joe's muffled screams. There was no more time! He raised his weapon and took aim. Inching the door open he slowly stepped into the kitchen.

He'd gotten three steps in before the floor squeaked. Mischkov pulled back from what he was doing to stare into the kitchen. Burt fired, hitting the big man in the chest.

Mischkov staggered and then brushed one hand over his chest as he stared at Burt dully.

Mischkov grinned and began to pull his own weapon out.

Realizing the man must have body armour on… Burt fired off another round toward the man's head. Mischkov ducked and fired in Burt's direction. Burt fired once more… and this time he heard a thud! Cautiously he crept into Joe's living room and kicked Mischkov's weapon away. Blood was pouring from the side of the enforcer's head. Burt knelt to check his pulse.

Just as he did so. Joe let out another shriek of pain and began to struggle in the chair to which he was bound. Replacing his weapon in his holster… Burt turned to check on his father-in-law.

Joe's face was reddened and sweat was pouring from him. His mouth worked back and forth as garbled cries issued from his mouth. Burt pulled a knife to cut the duct tape holding Joe's hands. As soon as they were free… Joe raised them to his head and continued to cry out. He panted harshly.

"Joe… it's me… what did he do?" But Joe just shook his head and wailed. Burt noticed the small wooden box on the table… the two vials… and the syringe. He picked up the syringe. Joe let out a harsh moan and looked at him wild-eyed… as if that were all he saw or understood. Burt closed the box and dropped it into his pocket. "I need to get you some medical attention." He didn't want to wait for Roberts… seconds might make the difference.

Pulling Joe to his feet… Burt had him lean on him for support. "C'mon Joe… we need to go and we need to go now!" Gradually Joe seemed to understand and followed Burt's lead out of the apartment. Burt positioned him in the front seat and climbed in behind the wheel. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

Joe grabbed his arm. "Safe house!" he managed before his voice broke up again.

"He called someone to attack the safe house?" Burt paused. "Amy was to head there." Swiftly he pulled out and raced for the safe house… praying he'd be in time.

Behind in the apartment… Avril Mischkov groaned and sat up slowly. Absently wiping the blood from his temple with the back of one hand he breathed shallowly. He'd been surprised… and he wasn't often surprised. Slowly he regained his feet and found his gun. As he leaned over to pick it up… he noticed a photo of Amy Meyers' children on the desk. That wasn't surprising… it was the frame that made him smile. "Grandpa!" Mischkov whispered with a leer. Obviously the Meyers woman was closer to Dawson than her records indicated. Mischkov picked the photo frame up and tapped it against his hand. He knew the twins had recently been shipped to Liverpool to spend time with their grandmother. Perhaps all was not lost. Surely either Dawson or Amy Meyers would tell him what he wanted… if he had the twins.

Mischkov dabbed his immaculate white handkerchief against his bleeding temple. He would let his underlings handle the safe house… while he made a short trip to England.

Outside he heard a vehicle pull up. Raising his Luger to the front door he paused… and then swiftly pulled the trigger at the man who entered… hitting him right between the eyes. As this man fell… Mischkov fired off a shot at the woman behind him. Her face registered surprise even as she fell dead.

Staggering a bit… Avril Mischkov exited Dawson's rooms and stumbled to his car. If he left now… he thought he could hit the Chunnel before the traffic got too bad.


	85. Chapter 82

****

Chapter 82

Northern California, yesterday afternoon

As Matt barreled down the mountain-slope and raced along the dirt road to the ranch, Katya cocked the automatic weapon and prepared to spray the Watchers at the gate with ammo. She had no illusions as to what they'd have to do.

The two men at the gate yelled out and brought their weapons to bear. Katya stood up and let fly several short bursts. The men fell and Matt barreled through the gate.

Once inside… Katya turned and began firing at anything that moved. Three more men went down. One of them got a shot off at her. The bullet pierced her left arm. She hissed and kept firing.

"That's five," Matt yelled from behind her as he brought his own weapon up. "Let's go!" He leaped from the SUV. Katya sat still a moment… letting her arm heal… then followed him out into the deadly still compound. They hunkered behind the Rover and each scanned the dark windows of the bunkhouse and the ranch house.

"I don't see anything!" Katya said.

"Neither do I… and that's what worries me," Matt replied. He took a deep breath. "Cover me… I'm headed to the bunkhouse."

"Wouldn't the ranch house be a more likely target?"

"Yes… and that's why I want to eliminate the bunkhouse." He fiddled a moment with his earpiece, and then ripped it out. "They found her microphone." The FBI agent raced across the compound… bullets peppered the ground at his feet as he dodged back and forth.

Katya took a bead on their point of origin. Switching to the sniper rifle… she peered through the telescopic site and aimed carefully, firing at the small glint of metal on the roof of the barn. There was a cry of pain and the man's weapon slid down the barn roof and tumbled to the ground.

By this time Matt had reached the bunkhouse and was preparing to force his way in through the door. Katya could see blood pouring down Matt's leg. Her arm was healed by this time. She slung the sniper rifle down and lifted the automatic once more… carefully scanning ranch house roof and windows.

Matt took a deep breath, kicked open the wooden bunkhouse door, and fired through it. A few moments later he waved an all clear to Katya before disappearing once more inside the bunkhouse. As thorough as he seemed to be, Katya realized he was checking to see if there was more to the bunkhouse than was apparent. A few minutes later he raced out and returned to their vehicle. No shots rang out.

"No one in there, but I saw signs of at least eight men living there by the looks of the bunks and the clothes."

"Someone must live in the farmhouse," Katya remarked darkly.

Matt nodded. "So… six down and at least two… maybe more in the house. By now they've likely heard the commotion. We need to move."

"What about the barn?"

Matt grinned and pulled grenades from his pockets. "Cover me again!" He raced toward the barn. This time no shots rang out. Once he reached the barn doors… he pulled the pin on one of the grenades… eased the door open and ducked as shots rang out from within. He tossed the grenade in and then ducked for cover.

The explosion splintered the bar doors. Rising, Matt waved at the smoke as he stalked into it. Katya heard three shots. Matt emerged moments later, motioning for her to take point on the farmhouse. Katya focused on the wide veranda… noticing the small red wooden door and the red wooden shutters to either side of the two front-facing windows.

Clasping the automatic before her… her finger on the trigger… Katya began the longest fifty-yard dash of her life. She'd covered half the distance when a single shot rang out and glass shattered. She felt the thud on her chest and spun about… falling to her knees. She gulped air even as she heard shots from Matt ring out behind her. Glass shattered once more and a man's head and arms lay across the windowsill.

Katya took another ragged breath… thankful for the body armour… and rose. Matt grabbed her arm as he reached her and dragged her along to the porch.

"Now you see why I insisted," he grinned at her. Katya nodded. She picked at the bullet impacted in the armour and pulled it out… holding it before her in her hand. Her chest hurt as much as if it had gone in… but the bruising was already fading. If the bullet had pierced her chest… she'd be dead… and Matt would be short-handed.

He thrust the butt of his automatic through the glass on the window and tossed in the second grenade. They grimaced as the blast shattered the door and the remaining glass window.

Matt raised a fist and quietly counted to three, before he leaped through the door and squeezed off several shots. As the smoke cleared… except for the body half-in and half-out the window… the long room was empty. The two immortals swiftly raced through the rooms and found no one… nor anything to indicate where Amber might be held.

"Damn!" snarled Matt. "I must have missed something."

Katya crossed to a blanket-covered wall and rested her hand thoughtfully against it… then lifted one corner with a grin. "Elevator!" she said simply.

She and Matt reloaded their weapons with fresh clips.

"It's a key access," Katya murmured as she searched the body of the Watcher. Finally she lifted a key.

"Shall we take him along," chuckled Matt and hauled the body up before him.

Katya inserted the key and turned. The elevator doors opened. The immortals entered and Katya pressed the unlit button.

"Next stop… the depths of Hell," she chuckled as the doors closed and the car descended.

When the elevator doors opened, Matt thrust the dead body of the Watcher through the opening. Nothing happened. Carefully he peered around it and saw a dimly lit hallway. A set of double doors was at one end. He motioned with his head for Katya to proceed as he lowered the body to the floor… propped so that the car doors would not close. The elevator was effectively trapped on this level until the body was moved.

They inched down the hallway covering one another. Once they reached the doors… Matt again counted silently with his fingers… three… two… one. He burst through the swinging doors into the room… bringing his weapon to bear on the elderly man leaning over Amber's body and fiddling with an IV.

"Want to live," the immortal snarled.

The man nodded… raised his hands and backed away from Amber. Her clothes had been removed and a sheet was thrown over her. Katya covered Matt while he pulled the IV from the young woman's arm.

"I didn't hurt her. It just makes her sleep," the old man said.

"Are there any more?" Matt asked.

When the man nodded and pointed toward some gurneys on the back wall, Matt grabbed him and propelled the man before him.

"Please… I'm only here to watch over them until they are transferred.

"The transfer's canceled," Matt whispered in his ear. "Bring them back."

The old man nodded and when Matt shoved him at the first body… he fumbled with the IV and pulled it out.

"Is there anyone else here?" Katya called out to him.

"No… my assistant went upstairs to see what the shooting was about."

"How many guards?" Matt asked.

"Eight… They're not allowed down here. Not after the last time."

"Last time?" Katya asked.

The old man cleared his throat. "Some tended to take liberties with the females. I found that distasteful."

Amber struggled awake… lashing out even as she drew in a ragged breath. She sat up gasping and holding her head.

"She should be fine in a few moments." The old man turned and pulled the IV out of the man on the second gurney of the two gurneys by the wall. "These two will take a little longer."

Matt motioned him to a nearby chair and grabbed a roll of surgical tape to restrain him. Thoughtfully he pulled an IV pole over and handled the needle.

"Please don't…" the old man begged. "That solution is too strong for mortals. It would kill me."

"Do tell," Matt said and glared.

Amber climbed to her feet and wrapped the sheet around her. "I'm gettin' verra tired of this."

"Welcome back," Katya said from her position by the door. She didn't trust that it had been this easy. She kept her weapon trained on the hallway.

Amber crossed to the old man and spit in his face. Matt handed her the IV needle and his pistol. "Watch him," he said as he crossed to the gurneys and leaned over the body of the female who was beginning to stir.

"It's all right Jade… You're safe now." Softly Matt ran his hand through her hair and leaned over to smile at her.

Jade gasped and then began to shudder.

"That's the drugs," the old man said. "Give her a few minutes. You people recuperate very swiftly."

From the other gurney… Jeremy Dexter gasped and moaned as he, too, began to shudder uncontrollably.

Matt helped Jade to a sitting position and wrapped the sheet around her. She smiled and stood up… nearly collapsing. Matt steadied her. She smiled at him and then took a few tentative steps toward her lover.

"Whoa!" Jeremy managed to say. "What a rush!" He held his head as Jade leaned over him.

"Hello love… long time no see!"

Jeremy groaned. "Don't make me laugh… my head is throbbing from the rest of you."

"At least it's still attached," Matt said and backed up to lean over the old man. "Do you have a name?"

"Dr. Ronald Petrie," the old man said.

"Why are you people collecting immortals and drugging them?" Matt grabbed his handgun back from Amber and thrust it against Petrie's temple. Behind him, Jeremy slowly sat up as Jade embraced him tearfully.

"I'm not certain. The new council requested we locate, drug and ship immortals to Europe. There is something going on… some research project. The drugs were sent to me from there."

"Who's in charge of this little research project?"

Petrie shook his head. "I don't know exactly. I do know Henry Rawlins… a member of the Tribunal signed off on it. I've dealt mainly with a man named Avril Mishkov. He toured the facilities here last year when they were set up."

Amber grabbed Petrie's face sharply in one hand and pulled it toward her. "How many have you transferred?"

"Three months ago we sent off four. Those were the first."

Matt lowered his handgun. "My people need clothing."

Petrie shook his head. "There's none down here. We cut off what they were wearing and disposed of it. What remains of the young lady's is over there."

Amber pulled away and went through the pile. She laughed. "Well… at least I have boots. Damn… I liked those jeans. Do ya have any idea how hard it is to find comfortable jeans!" She pulled her socks and boots on and re-tied the sheet more tightly around her. Finding her weapons in the pile, she slipped the knife into her boot and brandished the sword and the small handgun.

Jeremy and Jade were doing much the same.

From the door, Katya called out. "We may have company… the elevator is humming." The doors kept slapping open and shut on the dead Watcher's body.

Matt placed his handgun against Petrie's temple. "Is there another way in… or out?"

Petrie shook his head. "Just the elevator."

"Then they'll be waiting for us when we go up," Jeremy said sharply.

"And they'll be armed," Jade added.

Matt tossed Jeremy his handgun and pulled extra clips from his ammo bag to toss to Amber and Jeremy.

Katya tossed the automatic to Jade. "Unless you're good with a sniper rifle?" She laughed when Jade shook her head.

All armed, the five immortals headed down the hallway and stepped over the Watcher's body and into the elevator car. Matt pulled the body into the car and held it before him. The doors closed and the car began to rise.

"Any directions McCormick?" Jeremy asked.

"Just shoot anything that moves."

The doors opened and shots rang out… plunging ineffectively into the dead Watcher. Amber took aim under Matt's arm and fired at the source… as did Jeremy.

A man stood and spun around… falling to the floor from where he'd hidden.

Matt thrust the body out of the elevator. Two more shots rang out. He pulled back as Jade stepped forward firing Katya's automatic rifle. Another body hit the floor. The immortals let the elevator doors close… but held the car on that level. When they were set… Jade pushed the door open button and Matt and Katya leaped out.

Two more shots rang out… striking them. They fell to the floor as Jade aimed in the direction of they'd come from and poured a volley into the heavy oak table… watching as it splintered. A cry rang out. By this time Katya and Matt had sat up and were rubbing their chests.

"Once again… thank God for the armour!" Matt winced as he pulled a bullet from the vest.

"It still hurts!" Katya replied.

Amber stepped out of the car. "I think that may be the last of them here."

"True," Jeremy countered, "But these likely called in reinforcements."

Matt nodded. "Then let's make like the shepherd and get the flock out of here."

Jade grinned. "Mel Gibson in **Lethal Weapon**…" she smirked.

Matt shrugged. "It's still a good line… and it still applies."

They eased out of the ranch house and made a mad dash for their SUV. Matt started the ignition… gunned the motor and peeled out of the compound.

"I hope you have a shelter of some sort in mind," Jeremy yelled from the back seat over the engine's roar. "And clothes… I never much cared for togas."

Matt nodded grimly. "I'll see what I can do."

They vanished down the road in a trail of dust.

-----

Fifteen minutes later a chopper landed and a squad of heavily armed men alighted and swept the compound.

Once certain the compound was clear… a burly man alighted from the chopper and stalked into the ranch house. He surveyed the damage and then descended in the elevator.

A few moments later a single gunshot rang out from the lower depths of the ranch house. The squad leader rode grimly up on the elevator. "He told them everything he knew. We need to get word to headquarters that this facility is compromised and put the others on high alert. This may no longer be a capture mission… it may be search and destroy." The squad leader drew a machete from its sheath and grinned. "I rather think that I'd enjoy that."


	86. Chapter 83

****

Chapter 83

Paris

Peering through the binoculars at the building on the _Rue St. Denis_, Duncan had some serious misgivings about their next step. Behind him, Amanda continued to placate and tease Daniels while Alisaunne glared at him menacingly.

Duncan lowered the field glasses and returned them to their case. Rubbing one hand over his face and then through his dark hair… he tried to plan something. It was important to get Ian back… if only to keep Alisaunne under control… but it was also important to do so with as little life lost as possible. Having once been the target of an all-out Watcher War… Duncan had no interest in facing another death sentence. So far… it seemed that immortals were being collected… not killed. But for what purpose? Any violence on his part might cause the Watchers to go ahead and kill the ones they were holding.

"Think MacLeod!" he whispered to himself. "Think, dammit! You have to figure this out!"

Alisaunne inched up to him and laid a hand on Duncan's arm. "They won't know me. Let me lead the way with our friend here," she pleaded.

Duncan glanced over at Daniels, who was grimacing sheepishly as Amanda continued her cooing and teasing her fingers through the man's hair.

The Highlander nodded. "Just don't kill him… no matter what. Promise me you'll use restraint. If you don't… Ian may die."

Alisaunne sobered thoughtfully as she nodded her agreement. Getting Ian back was paramount. She reached over to Daniels and curled one arm through his. "You and I are going to take a walk." She shoved her knife against his ribs insistently. "Not a word… unless it's necessary. One wrong word… one wrong inflection… or facial expression… and it will be your last."

Daniels nodded. Perspiring heavily… he allowed Alisaunne to pull him away from Amanda… but he glanced longingly back at the charming immortal thief.

Amanda grinned and waved. "Just do as your told, dear boy, and everything will be fine."

Daniels pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. "Ready. There are usually two guards at the door. I have to show my symbol and give the password. I have no idea how to explain your being with me."

"Say she saw a quickening and you want to debrief her," Duncan said as they passed him.

Daniels nodded. "That might work."

"Make it believable," Alisaunne warned and pushed again with her knife.

Duncan watched as the two of them crossed the street and entered the gated courtyard. He could just barely see the guards. Evidently Daniels' explanation worked… as he and Alisaunne vanished into the red brick building.

"Now what?" asked Amanda.

Duncan grinned. "How good are you at second story work?"

Amanda gave him a pained expression. "What do you have in mind?"

"Alisaunne will provide a distraction and we may be able to get to the building and climb in. We can then work our way down to her and help rescue Ian."

Amanda stared at the hanging balconies and the brickwork. "Without equipment? Hmm… possible. Difficult… but possible." She stretched and limbered up. As soon as she felt ready… she and Duncan crossed the street just up the block… and worked their way back to the ivy-covered wall. Duncan gave her a foot up and helped toss her upward where she grasped the ledge and pulled up… so that she lay flat on the wall… carefully eyeing the grounds. Then she reached down to grasp a climbing Duncan's hand and helped him to the top. "Stay low," she whispered; then slid cautiously down the other side. Duncan followed her, landing on the ground between the wall and the immense shrubs lining it.

Amanda motioned for him to follow her and led the way carefully through a stand of trees and across the grounds to the side of the house. Once there… she inched along the wall… ducking under a window as she passed it… until she reached the drainpipe. Pointing upward… she grinned.

Duncan laced his fingers together and gave her a quick boost up as he'd done at the wall. As he watched her scamper nimbly up the drainpipe… Duncan grinned in appreciation. Amanda did know her stuff!

At the second story… the thief encircled the drain with her feet and expertly leaned outward toward the balcony. She was just able to grasp the edge of the grillwork. Getting a firmer hold on it… Amanda released from the pipe and swung over and then up onto the narrow railing; then leaped down quietly onto the grilled floor. After glancing in the window… she motioned for Duncan to begin climbing.

He'd gotten about eight feet off the ground when the drainpipe began pulling loose from the wall with a loud _wrench_. He stared upward at it and then at Amanda.

Glancing around the grounds… Amanda motioned him on. Duncan began climbing again… aware that his greater weight was not making this easy. The wrenching and tearing of the pipe continued. Two feet from his being able to reach and grasp the bottom of the balcony grill… the pipe gave way and began to lean outward precariously.

Duncan made a valiant leap at the grillwork… his fingers actually touching the iron… before he fell to the ground. Amanda knelt down. "Jump," she mouthed and reached her hand through the grill.

Voices sounded nearby.

Duncan shook his head. He'd have to find another way in. He motioned Amanda to go on… and hid once more among shrubbery… waiting for the guards to pass. Glancing at the precariously bent drainpipe… the Highlander wondered how long it would be before someone noticed and raised the alarm.

Nervously… he crouched and peeked through the grillwork over the window on the first floor. Inside he could see a number of people working. Through the entrance to the room… he could see Alisaunne and Daniels speaking with someone. He had to get in there! But this window was not an option. Swallowing his nervousness… Duncan slowly inched toward the next window. Surely he'd find one he could enter… or a door.

-----

Alisaunne clung to Daniels… hoping her expression of fear and bewilderment… would cover her refusal to let go of him. She pushed the knife against him once more as a tall and very grim-looking man stopped them in the hallway. Rail-thin, the man's deceptively deep voice seemed like it should belong to another.

"Ah," Daniels began. "_Monsieur_ LeCaron… This young _mademoiselle_ has witnessed an… event. I've brought her in to explain what she saw. Perhaps, we might have a new recruit."

The tall man nodded and stepped aside… but he watched Daniels and the young woman move through the corridor and into a back office. Something wasn't right about that… but this _was_ standard procedure when civilians witnessed quickenings. Sometimes the cover stories worked and the civilians went home assured they had not seen what they had seen… and other times… they joined their ranks. But it had been Daniels' apparent nervousness when he'd explained, that had raised a red flag. Perhaps he should keep an eye on them. Slowly LeCaron strolled down the hallway after them.

Inside the small windowless back office Alisaunne glanced around taking stock of the furnishings. She pushed Daniels into a chair and quickly ripped out the phone cord. "You will remain quiet," she warned as she tied him securely to the chair… her fingers knotting the cord expertly. She pulled Daniels handkerchief from his pocket and smiled. "Is there anything else I need to know before I leave you?"

Fearfully Daniels shook his head.

Alisaunne stuffed the handkerchief into his mouth and pulled off the tie belt of her trenchcoat, tying it tightly about his mouth. She patted his cheek. "You've done well. Now stay quietly in here… if I see you again before I leave… you will die." For a moment she ran the edge of her knife along the side of his face and across his throat where she thoughtfully paused… seeing in that moment how easy it would be to kill him.

"_One less of them to bother you, my dear_," whispered Nestor's voice. "_Do it!_"

Alisaunne shook her head and shivered. Getting Ian out of this place was far more important than giving in to the insistent visions and pleas that were ever more strongly whispering to her. She recalled all too clearly how bad Nestor had looked when he'd attacked her, and she realized that it would be the same for her if she began to follow the same path. Alisaunne knew that if she started… she might never be able to stop. A vision of being drenched in blood and screaming barbarically to lightning-filled skies was… for a moment… more real than Daniels.

Pulling the knife back… Alisaunne inched toward the door and cracked it open ever so slightly. As soon as she'd entered the building she'd felt the faraway and barely tangible feel of another immortal. She concentrated on that… and on finding him. As she saw no one in the hallway… she slipped out to begin her search.

From an alcove… LeCaron watched grimly. After the girl had vanished into a stairwell… he opened the office door and stared at Daniels. Raising his communicator he barked instructions into it. Smiling darkly he closed the door on the young Watcher and began to follow the intruder. With any luck… he'd have one more for Rawlins. Getting in here was easy… the immortal would find it much more difficult to get out. After all… they wanted her kind here.

-----

Burt pulled into the driveway of the safe house honking his horn. Joe looked really bad. His flushed face and raspy breathing concerned Burt greatly.

Amy opened the back door and stood for a moment in it until Burt braked to a stop and climbed out. "Amy… it's Joe!" he cried out.

Amy came running, flinging open the passenger side door and kneeling at Joe's side. "Dad? Joe? Can you hear me?"

Joe's eyes slowly focused. "… coming. Save… immortals." He shuddered and whimpered.

"What happened?" screamed Amy to Burt as she felt Joe's perspiring brow. Behind she was aware of the others.

"Mischkov got to him. Gave him some drugs. I wanted to take him to the hospital but he said Mischkov called this location in. We have to go. And go now." Burt eyed the immortal couple. "Get in!"

Kage opened the rear door to climb in. "Wait…" Grace said and knelt beside Amy. "I'm a doctor… let me take a look."

"People!" Burt barked. "We have to go."

Amy pulled back… climbing into the rear seat and leaning forward through the opening to hold Joe's hand. Tears sprinkled in her eyes. Kage climbed in beside her… slamming the door.

"This isn't right… mortals should not be dying to protect us."

Amy sobbed. "He's not going to die!"

Grace positioned herself in the front to examine Joe while Burt floored the accelerator and pulled out. She took note of Joe's thready pulse and swiftly throbbing heart. His raspy and labored breathing and temperature all seemed to contradict anything normal. "What did this Mischkov give him? Do you know?"

Burt pulled the vials from his pocket and tossed them to her.

Grace shook her head. "This one is poison… as for the other… I'm not certain what it is."

Joe wrapped his fingers around her hand. "Poison … antidote. Mischkov took other… survived."

Grace shook her head. "You must have misunderstood Mr. Dawson. This poison will kill you… even a little. And in your condition… it wouldn't take very long."

Joe closed his eyes. "Said it'd stop it. Everything burns. Fire in my blood!" He began moaning as his head lolled back.

"I'm certain it would end your torment. It would kill you. If he was telling the truth… and he did take this other drug… the one he gave you… then it must not be fatal. But you'll need to bear with it a bit longer." She turned to Burt. "We need to get him to an emergency room. I can only do so much without equipment and blood tests."

"No!" yelled Joe vehemently. "Bar… take me there."

"Joe… they may be looking for you there. It's too dangerous," Amy said softly.

… 'bout … safe house. All I told him. He… never mentioned my name. He's dead… until the others get here… he won't be raising any alarms."

"What about your regular Watcher?" Burt retorted. "Don't you think he'll call it in when all of us pile out of this car?"

"I believe I can help with that," Kage said calmly from the back. "No one else will die, if I can help it."

Burt nodded. "I'll help Grace and Amy get Joe into the bar. I'll let you out before we get there. You can circle down to surprise him."

Kage agreed. Two blocks from _Le Blues Bar_, Burt braked as Kage climbed swiftly out.

"Be careful John," called Grace.

"Always," he replied with a smile.

Pulling up at the bar's front entrance, Burt shifted into park. "Are you certain about this Joe?"

Joe nodded. "Need… to get…this 'fore we leave. Dangerous." Grace and Amy climbed out and helped Joe to his feet.

"Where's his cane?" Amy asked as Burt came around the car and slipped an arm around Joe.

"Mischkov broke it." Burt muttered.

"Spare… in office," Joe rasped as he handed Amy the keys as the others helped him into the darkened bar. He pointed toward the office. "Safe!"

"Keep watch," Burt barked to Grace.

She glanced at Joe's increasingly labored breathing. "He needs to sit down. Exertion is not good for him."

"Neither is stress," Amy said, calmly replacing Grace at Joe's side. She knew him well enough, that she understood whatever was driving him right now… it was more important to him than anything else. "We'll get whatever it is Dad… just tell me the combination."

Grace watched them take Joe into the office. Then she peered worriedly through the window. A man across the street was tossing a cigarette into the gutter and staring at the bar. He shook his head and then pulled out a cell phone. From behind him, John appeared, grabbed his arm and pulled the phone from the man's hands. Then he began pushing the man toward the bar.

Once they were in, Grace locked the door.

"Hey… you're both immortals." The man said in English with an American accent.

"I assure you…" John insisted. "You are in no danger as long as you cooperate. Now have a seat."

The man nodded nervously and sat. "I just watch Dawson. The higher-ups wanted to know if any immortals came to see him. I was just assigned."

"Then you have no idea why your organization is after us?" Grace asked.

The Watcher shook his head. "Sorry. You must have misunderstood something. We don't interfere with you people… we just Watch and record."

Grace threw up her hands and turned back to the windows.

Kage settled into a chair next to the man. "You can call me John," he said softly. "Let me tell you a story…


	87. Chapter 84

_Here's a bonus chapter... just for you guys... just for today._ --elle

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**Chapter 84**

**Taranto, just after dawn**

Before dawn, Phillip had finalized their plans for the attack on the compound. He had never been a planner of campaigns… but this was no major campaign… only a skirmish… at least he hoped it would be only be a skirmish.

"Always a soldier," he'd chuckled to Reagan, "never a general."

Reagan had given him a bit of a smirk. "So tell me… we're following your lead… why?"

Phillip had shrugged. "I'm open to any better ideas."

Reagan had laughed at that point. Keith had looked askance at both of them. "I don't get it," he finally said.

Denis had elbowed him. "You haven't hung around the elders too much have, you boy."

Keith grumbled. "How many times do I have to tell you… I'm _not_ a boy."

"No, lad," Phillip had said at that point gently. "None of us are. We might be facing the end of our lives by attacking this place. We might even precipitate a war, which might destroy all of us… but we have to find out what's going on in there. Levity before battle helps."

So here they were… positioned in the growing light of the dawn of another cloudless day… awaiting Phillip's signal to begin.

Phillip stared heavenward a moment. "My Lady… if you've any power left… if you still watch us… your children… guide our steps in this enterprise." As always… Danae… Aja… never answered… but Phillip felt some sense of comfort in just asking.

He raised his right arm and whistled… rather like a thrush… and the operation began.

-----

Hearing the signal… and seeing the swordmaster's raised arm… Denis grinned. He and Chou were up first. Grabbing their ball… they headed out into the road… passing it back and forth as they laughed and jeered at one another, appearing… they hoped… like any two small boys… out for a day of fun.

"_Bambinos_!" one of the men at the gate called out. "_Sfuggire di strade_! Get on down the road!" So far so good. The boys were evidently not known on sight.

They nodded, waved… a signal to the others that they could move to the next phase… and continued tossing the ball and laughing as they moved on down the road. Now came the hard part. Chou paused… grinned… and tossed the ball over Denis' head so that it rolled into the brush at the roadside. Denis gave a wave and trotted off to ostensibly retrieve the lost ball. He climbed down into the gully… swept brush back and forth… and then held the ball up in triumph.

Chou licked his lips.

Denis climbed out… tripped on something and fell. Clasping his leg and ankle… the boy immortal began wailing in pain.

One of the guards left the gate and approached. He knelt by Denis while Chou crouched at his friend's side. "_Signore_…" Chou said. "He's broken it."

The man nodded. "Stop wailing boy… How far is your _casa_?"

Just down the _strade_!" whimpered Denis.

The man grunted. "Can you go for his _genitori_ … his parents?" he said to Chou.

Denis screamed louder.

Chou mumbled something about only the old _nonna_… the grandmother… was at home.

The man spoke into his communicator that he was taking the _bambino_ home," and lifted Denis into his arms as he followed Chou down the _strade_.

Twenty minutes later… he called in over static that he was on his way back. His companion at the gate stood easy as he saw his friend coming up the road. His companion was whistling as he walked… his hands thrust into his pockets. He removed one hand and waved.

The man at the gate heard something… possibly a branch… snap off to the left and turned… his rifle unslung… and his eyes on whatever it was. "Bah," he finally said. "Must be another _volpe_ … a fox." He turned to stare into an unfamiliar face wearing his friend's clothes.

"Do tell," the stranger said, as his fist connected soundly with the guard's nose. He sank into darkness… barely aware that he was caught by the stranger and was being dragged off.

By the time he was fully awake once more… he was stripped, hog-tied and gagged in the ditch… and no one was in sight.

-----

"Good work Keith," Phillip said as they left the second of the unconscious guards. "Now to get inside."

Reagan adjusted the guard's jacket and hat. "Do I pass muster?" she teased.

Phillip nodded and placed her sword inside his coat along with Keith's. "Let's go." Rising… he placed his hands behind his head and marched toward the gate.

"_Aprir_," Keith said in Italian, " Open up, we have a prisoner." The gates swung open. The three immortals entered cautiously. "Tell me again why we are bearding the lion in his own den," Keith mumbled as three men came running across the courtyard to meet them.

"To find the answers," Phillip admonished. "Now… one… two… three!" He whipped out the tranquilizer gun and swiftly fired off three darts.

Keith and Reagan reached forward to catch and disarm two of the men… while Phillip grabbed the third.

"How long will they be out?" Keith asked as they dragged the men to the wall and secured them. Micah and the other children slipped through the gate at that point… piled the weapons in Chou's and Denis' arms and motioned them out.

"About half an hour," Reagan said. "Let's hope the grounds aren't under close surveillance." Retrieving her sword from Phillip, she, Micah and Madrigal headed to the left while Keith followed Phillip to the right, his sword also reclaimed. So far so good… but they still needed to get into the _villa_ before too many were up and about.

-----

Phillip had chosen the early dawn as the best time to attack. His observations had determined that the guards were tired and ready to get off-duty… the lights on the courtyard would have faded in the early light… and what few were up… were still getting ready for the day ahead.

The only problem… was that he had no idea what they'd find inside the _villa_.

Leading the way… he and Keith, while hugging the wall, climbed onto the wide veranda and slipped through some glassed double doors on that side of the building. He pointed toward some sensors as they made their way from an apparent empty office into the main hall. Surprising a woman carrying a tray of breakfast, Phillip fired off another tranquilizer dart and reloaded while Keith hastened forward to catch the tray and set it on a credenza. Grabbing the woman's arms Keith dragged her into a hall closet and gagged her… making certain she could breathe. Phillip didn't want any mortals killed if it could be helped.

Keith glanced at Phillip as he shut the closet door. The Greek was slowly making his way down the hall searching each room. Keith followed wondering how Reagan and the others were doing.

-----

Reagan's destination was lower levels. Phillip would check the rooms above while she and the two children checked out what lay beneath the surface. Phillip had noted the presence of small windows along the base of the villa.

"Normally," the Greek had said, "A _villa_ has no lower levels… unless it's wine storage. I have a feeling… there's no wine down there. Most of the defense will come from the main floor… or from the side buildings where many of them sleep."

Reagan had wanted to accompany him but he'd shaken his head.

"You have a great deal of experience Reagan. And I want someone with experience leading that group."

Crouching at one of the small windows, Reagan peered at the black painted glass. Cursing she realized she had no way of knowing what lay on the other side.

Madrigal felt along the edges of the pane. Digging out her knife… she began to dig at the loose caulking.

"We have to go in," she whispered as she loosened the pane.

"That's not wise," Reagan told her. "The glass might fall and break."

Micah pulled out two small suction cups and attached them to the glass. "Amanda taught us a few breaking and entering tricks," he grinned sheepishly.

Reagan's mouth dropped open and she nearly laughed aloud. MacLeod had talked on and on about Amanda the last time she'd had dinner with him about eight years ago. It had been then that Reagan had decided that whether or not MacLeod knew it… he was deeply in love with the immortal thief. Reagan had cut the evening short that night and never looked back. She didn't want another woman's man… she wanted her own. And MacLeod was most definitely Amanda's. She wondered idly if the two of them had ever worked things out.

Micah pulled the glass loose.

Reagan leaned down and peered into the darkness. She heaved a sigh of relief. "No one there… she slipped feet first through the small window and dropped onto a concrete floor. Cautiously she crossed the darkened area… suddenly aware there was at least one and maybe more immortals nearby. Either Phillip and Keith had changed their minds and found their way down here… or there was someone else.

Behind her Micah dropped to the floor. He turned and caught Madrigal… giving her a light kiss. Reagan motioned silence and crept toward the small strip of light at the base of what appeared to be a door. The immortal buzz became louder in her mind as she leaned her ear against the door and listened.

She could hear voices laughing. Whoever was there had no idea their security had been compromised. Quietly she turned the handle and grimaced. The door was locked. Gesturing at Madrigal… Reagan stood back and watched the girl pull out a burglar's kit. Selecting the right lock-pick… the girl inserted it into the old lock and probed. Reagan heard a _click_ and Madrigal pulled back out of the way with a wide grin.

Reagan softly turned the doorknob… counting to three so that the young people would be ready… and then opened the door… her Luger held before her… her feet spread wide apart.

There were two figures in white shirts. One was seated at a desk… leaning back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head, and apparently in the midst of some joke. The other was leaning against the desk, sipping coffee and chuckling. They both looked up fearfully.

"Hello boys," Reagan said and motioned at them with her gun to get their hands up. "Let's not make this difficult… shall we?"

Madrigal and Micah slipped from behind her and swiftly tied the two men up while Reagan kept her gun pointed at the men's heads. Once the men were bound… Reagan crossed to an inner door and listened. The buzz practically throbbed inside her! This door was unlocked.

She nodded to the children to get weapons ready… silently counted to three and then flung the door open. Reagan thought she was ready for anything… but she wasn't.

-----

****

Watcher compound, last night

Henry Rawlins did not enjoy being awakened from sleep. He was only dozing occasionally… so eager was he to be present whenever Wilderman's latest experiments took place. With the last breakthrough… they had gone through several subjects already… They'd even managed to link three of them and push them to perform as they wished in a scenario. Rawlins felt they'd be ready to move on to number 47 sometime tomorrow. Once they had him completely under their control… then not even the dreamer he was linked to would matter.

Eagerly Rawlins anticipated the event. Soon he'd have the answers to the origin of immortals. Soon he'd know what made them so. Autopsies and tests had shown absolutely no physical difference in the two species. Whatever made them immortal… it wasn't physical. And if it wasn't physical… Rawlins grinned… then there was no reason that he and chosen others couldn't become immortal.

But this call had upset him to no end. A holding facility in Northern California had been attacked late yesterday by a pair of immortals, who had killed a dozen men and rescued three specimens. Rawlins had angrily thrown his cell phone against the wall, taking satisfaction in its shattering. Seething he counted to ten… and then to twenty. Finally he got his breathing and his temper under control.

Not since the days when he'd taken over watching Duncan MacLeod and had lost sight of him in Cannes… had he been so angry. Since that day… most of his machinations had gone as planned. He'd counted on the inherent longing in many of the Watchers to be immortal to bring them under his control… that and the notoriety of his enforcer Avril Mischkov who dispatched anyone in Rawlins' way without a second thought. Sometimes Henry Rawlins wondered if Mischkov was even human.

Reduced to using Wilderman's office phone, Rawlins could recall only the main switchboard number in Paris… but he only got a recording. Rawlins tapped the receiver against his head as he thought… desperately trying to recall another number. He snarled at the remains of his cell phone with all the numbers he needed. Finally he called his secretary at her home. Debra James was pretty much in the dark about most of her boss' activities… but she listened as he called for a Code Red condition to be put in effect at all locations. "We have been attacked Miss James. The immortals are coming for us again. Contact everyone." Thankfully she did not argue and had assured him that she would put the Code Red in effect immediately.

Rawlins had ended the call and then strode angrily over the catwalk to stare down at the specimens from his favorite perch. Fifty immortals were arrayed beneath him. Fifty beings whose sole purpose was now to give up the secrets of their origins and the secrets of immortality to those daring enough to grasp it. Off to one side he watched the sleeping form of number 47. "Soon," he murmured, "soon all you are and all you know will be mine… and no one… not a paltry few immortals attacking a facility halfway around the world will make one iota of difference. You belong to me Methos… You and all your secrets are mine."

Satisfied once more that all that could be done… was being done… Henry Rawlins sauntered off to Wilderman's office… now his… and poured a cup of coffee. Despite his inability to contact Mischkov, he'd handled the situation. He was calmly in control once more.

-----

In Paris, Debra James shook her head after her boss rang off. His calls to her in the past few weeks had been increasingly strange. Evidently he was a little paranoid. She'd pass the word tomorrow… first thing in the morning… as soon as she reported to work. She'd tell Avril Mischkov. Flinging herself back under the covers… she drifted off to sleep.


	88. Chapter 85

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Chapter 85

Northern Mexico

Upon blasting out of the California Watcher ranch, the group had changed from the SUV into a small _Camry_ and had hidden the SUV under a bed of brush before driving leisurely along the main highway into Southern California.

Matt had noticed the helicopter evidently seeking them and had made certain that their vehicle did not stand out and was lost in traffic. It worked. Without the backup of law enforcement… the Watchers were attempting to discover the immortals on their own. Matt's FBI scanner kept him abreast of the situation. He'd managed to tune into the Watcher frequency, and had used the gleaned knowledge to the best of his ability. He'd kept up on surveillance technology in recent years… and there was little that he didn't know how to use.

Rolling the window down, Matt breathed in the warm California air. He put his arm on the door and found himself beating the tempo of some innocuous music Amber had located on the radio. So far so good.

By nightfall they'd rolled into L.A., refueled and then they'd continued their journey south. All the while the five immortals exchanged information and brought Jade and Jeremy up to speed on the entire situation. By midnight… Matt had turned off the road and headed into the desert. They'd left the car near the border. Matt checked out the schedules of the border patrols via his scanner while the others packed everything up. When he gave the word… they'd crossed on foot into Mexico.

After all… it was easier to cross into Mexico than into the U.S. Matt wasn't certain how they'd get back into the states… but he'd worry about that after they'd checked out the next facility… providing they survived. The element of surprise had been with the last time… he sincerely doubted surprise would work again. At any rate… they'd have to find a place to hole up before dawn… and catch some shut-eye.

Immortals might have great constitutions… but they still needed sleep. And with sleep… came clarity. Matt wasn't certain what they'd find or what else they might have to do… but he was finding this walk on the wild side… exhilarating!

Katya blinked her _Maglite_ on the compass and led the way through the cactus and rock escarpments that made up this area of Mexico. Here was only darkness… and the clear light of the stars… shining down like diamonds on inky velvet.

Matt shifted his backpack and his weapons' strap… and followed. Katya knew this area of the world better… she'd lived for centuries in Mexico and Latin America… and had some ideas about where they were headed. Time would tell how right she was. This was where she'd wanted to come first… after all.

Glancing at Jade and Jeremy… clad in Matt's and Katya's spare set of clothes… Matt knew they'd made the right decision. He smiled to himself in the darkness. They'd have to contact the others in Europe once they stopped for the night. Until then… it was best to keep moving… and best to use lights only sparingly.

-----

****

Geneva

Computer techs had been working on the Internet Cafe computer they'd confiscated … but so far… they'd had no luck breaking the strange code Reagan Cole had been using. Nor did the email addresses she'd sent to make any sense. So far… that was a dead end. All they knew for certain… was that she'd had messages from four addresses… and had sent messages to about a dozen.

Had they been aware of the California raid… they might have realized that immortals evidently knew more about Watchers than they realized.

-----

****

Rome

Warren Green was getting restless. He'd promised to wait… but surely it wouldn't matter if he got out for a bit. After all… he had no idea where Reagan and Keith had gone. Without his transponder… the Watcher contingent would have no knowledge of where he was.

Staring out the window at the glorious sun rising over the skyline of Rome… Warren was eager to see the city. He'd been practicing Italian for several days. Surely with a phrasebook in hand he could get by. He'd order breakfast first, though. He was in no hurry… nor did he have a death wish. If he were found… he knew there would be a price to pay for his betrayal of his oath.

-----

****

London, England

Melanie Pryor hadn't been able to sleep all night. Having returned to London at Dawson's request, she was still keyed up and worried about Delano, about what Dawson had told her was evidently going on inside the organization, and about Cassandra. Despite having had no contact with Cass since 2003, when the psychic had suddenly left New York City, Melanie was still fond of her former assignment.

Huddled in her bed and watching the dawn outside her window, Melanie wondered if Cassandra could see the light… or if she were lost or dead. There was nothing she could do here, except wait… and Melanie had never been good at just waiting.

-----

****

Washington, DC

Roberta Collins shivered in the night. She thought she heard something and rose… leaving her husband sleeping in his bed. She checked her sleeping children and… satisfied that she was imagining things… headed down to the kitchen for some warm milk.

Halfway down the stairs… she saw a dark figure detach from the shadows. Roberta opened her mouth to scream… and crumpled to the stairs as something slammed into her side.

Lying there… Roberta was painfully aware of the loud pounding of her heart as it beat slower and slower… and slower. She was unconscious from loss of blood before it finally stopped.

The figure stepped over her body and headed up the stairs to complete the job. The word had been given. She'd betrayed her oath… and had assisted Matt McCormick in vanishing. That also made her guilty by association with what had happened in California. The North American Coordinator had been more persistent about getting the word out to groups in the U.S. and Canada.

Any Watcher found to be working with immortals in attacks on facilities would be summarily executed… along with their families. No Tribunal would be necessary.

-----

****

Paris

Once the guards had vanished around the side of the building, Duncan inched along the wall of the house. He continued to peer into windows carefully and duck down once he saw people in the rooms. When he reached the corner to the back of the house… he gazed at a wide, flagstone veranda. The entrance to the house from the low-walled porch was a set of glass-paned French doors.

Duncan paused and listened. He heard nothing… no voices… not even a dog's barking. There was nothing to be gained by waiting. He climbed the balustrade of the veranda and flattened himself once more against the wall. Finally he dared look through the doors.

Apparently it was a dining room of some sort. He could see linen covered tables set with chairs. No one was currently about. He reached for the levered handle on the door and smiled grimly as it descended and the door opened. Drawing his _katana_, Duncan entered the house, closing and locking the door behind him.

From the attached kitchen he could hear voices and the sounds of dishes being washed. _Likely just day workers_, he thought, and hoped once more that Alisaunne would remain under control. Crossing the dining room swiftly, he arrived at the arched entry to a wide hall. He ducked against the wall of the dining room and listened.

Again he could hear voices in the side offices… laughter… and sounds of computer keyboard keys clicking. Again… low level workers likely… typing up reports of immortal activity. Duncan wondered if they even knew the truth about whatever was going on. He inched into the darkened hallway and immediately felt the nearness of others.

The one behind a door that likely led to a cellar… was probably Alisaunne. The one approaching slowly down the stairs was Amanda. As soon as he saw her… Duncan motioned for her to join him. She did so quietly… snatching looks at the side rooms' inhabitants as she hurried past open doors.

Duncan pulled her into the alcove where he was standing and held her… aware that both their hearts were pounding.

"Miss me?" Amanda whispered, her eyes bright with teasing. Duncan leaned to kiss her lightly and pointed at the closed door.

"Down there," he said.

Amanda nodded. "I feel that, too." She pulled her own sword. Duncan grinned and as always wondered just how it was she seemed to be able to hide a sword on her person… even when it seemed impossible. "Practice," she'd once explained, "Practice and being limber."

The duo crossed the hall… and Duncan inched the heavy wooden door open. From the dimly lit cellar he heard movement… but no voices. He slipped past the door. Amanda followed and closed and locked it behind her, throwing the deadbolt she found on the door. If an outcry were raised… the locked and bolted door would delay reinforcements for a while.

They crept down the stairs. When they heard Alisaunne's voice rise in anger and scream, "Nooo!" Duncan sped up. The time for caution had past.

-----

When Alisaunne reached the bottom of the stairs she'd noticed the white light gleaming at the far end of the darkened cellar. Beneath the light on a gurney lay a figure covered by a white sheet. One arm lay on the sheet, and inserted into the arm was an IV attached to several bags on a pole.

Fearfully she raced forward. "_What have they done to him?_" she thought. As soon as she reached the figure… Alisaunne saw to her horror that it wasn't Ian. It was a male immortal she'd never before seen.

__

Kill him! Take his head! Nestor's voice whispered. _Quickly! Before he wakes up!_

Alisaunne shook her head with a shudder. Then she heard the footstep on the wooden stairs.

Through narrowed eyes she peered at the tall figure of LeCaron. The man was grinning and raising an arm to shoot.

Alisaunne leaped with all her power to her left, crouched briefly, and then launched herself at LeCaron. Her move surprised him and she grasped the hand with the weapon and twisted it so that the barrel pointed at his temple.

"Where is he?" she hissed while visions of flaying him alive flickered through her mind like some obscene snuff film.

LeCaron's eyes widened in fear. "Who?" he managed to say.

"Ian," the young woman hissed again. "Tell me where he is!"

LeCaron shook his head and strained to move his head away from the barrel of his gun. The two circled about as they struggled. He was surprised at her strength… she was far stronger than she appeared. The Watcher managed to turn the gun briefly so that the barrel was pointed, not at his head… but almost in her face. He redoubled his efforts as his hand shook from the effort.

Alisaunne realized the man was preparing to pull the trigger as soon as it was safe for him to do so. Angrily she shifted her weight to her left and kneed him harshly in the groin with her lifted right knee… again and again.

His face turned purple and his grip on his weapon lessened as he froze and began to bend over.

She re-doubled her efforts to turn the gun-barrel back toward his head even as he managed to squeeze the trigger.

A blinding flash and a _whoof_ from the silencer on the barrel momentarily startled her. Her cheek stung from the graze of the bullet as it had passed her… after passing through one of LeCaron's cheeks.

Blood spattered on them both and he howled… his mouth a ruin… teeth that had been clenched were now shattered from the bullet's impact. But they both still lived.

Alisaunne drew back one fist and pounded it into LeCaron's bloodied face. Again and again until he lay unconscious on the floor. She knelt to feel his pulse. It still throbbed beneath her bloodied fingers. Slowly she raised one hand and stared at the blood… so enticing… so delicious. She slowly moved her hand toward her mouth as if to taste it… to lick the salty fluid from her fingers. In her mind she could hear Nestor's cackling… she could feel him thrusting into her… she could smell the rot from his mouth as it closed on her. She opened her mouth and screamed, "Nooo!" and buried her face in her hands shuddering.

Moments later Duncan was at her side… his arms around her. "I'm here Ali… it's all right. He can't hurt you. Listen to my voice… he's dead and he can't hurt you." She collapsed against him sobbing.

Amanda stepped to the gurney. "Cory?" she whispered and pulled the IV out. She ran a hand over his cool brow and whispered his name over and over. Finally his eyes fluttered open. As they focused on Amanda's face, he grinned.

"What kept you?"

"Get him up. We have to get out of here," Duncan ordered, still holding his sobbing student. He rose, pulling Alisaunne to her feet.

Upstairs he heard a pounding on the cellar door.

"Hurry up! We've got company!" Duncan barked as Amanda pulled Cory to a sitting position and helped him stand. Raines staggered drunkenly and shook his head. The sheet fell from him and he stared down at.

Amanda swiftly grasped it and draped it over his shoulders. "Adjust this about you… I don't see any clothes."

Cory nodded numbly.

Upstairs the pounding increased and Duncan could hear wood starting to splinter.

"You found a way in," Cory grumbled. "Any idea of how to find a way out?"

Duncan glared and swept his eyes over the darkened cellar. The swinging single light fixture showed only the damp stone walls of the cellar. "You mean you don't know the way?"

"Shut up, both of you!" snapped Amanda as she circled about. Finally she found what she was looking for. "Coal chute!" she said triumphantly and pointed upward.

"Oh that's great," snorted Cory. "Don't you think I'm a little under-dressed for that maneuver?"

Amanda glared at him and gestured impatiently. Grumbling Cory pulled himself up the chute and began to inch his way through the blackened exit.

Duncan shook Alisaunne and peered into her eyes. "Ali… we have to go… Ian's not here… we still have to find him."

The girl's tear-filled eyes suddenly focused. She nodded. Duncan dropped his hands. Alisaunne turned. LeCaron reached out with a weak hand and grasped her ankle… letting out a loud groan. She snarled… pulled her foot away and began to kick him.

Once more Duncan pulled her away… lifting her in his arms. "Leave him!" She struggled in his arms in her attempts to reach the downed Watcher. She wanted to tear him apart! She wanted him dead! She wanted all of them dead!

Duncan slammed her against the wall beneath the chute. "Climb!" he ordered.

She glared at him and tried to reach past him. "Climb, Ali or we'll never find Ian!"

At the mention of Ian's name… Alisaunne paused and stared… meeting Duncan's eyes. Slowly she nodded… turned and pulled herself up into the chute.

Amanda shook her head. "We need to hurry. That door won't hold them much longer."

Duncan nodded and stood guard while Amanda followed Alisaunne and Cory up the shoot. As he heard the door above begin to give way… he pulled into the chute… and vanished. He fervently hoped no Watcher was on the egress of this. If they were… then all of them would likely die… or face the same fate as evidently had claimed Ian.

As he reached the outer door… it swung open and Cory's hands appeared to pull him free. The con man grinned. "We really make a sight now, Mac!" he smiled… his white teeth looking even whiter in his blackened face. He'd dropped the filthy sheet.

Duncan stared around. Below him he heard voices. They'd figure it out soon. "Let's move!" he said as Cory grabbed the sheet once more… tying it more securely about his waist. The four immortals raced toward the high ivy-covered wall. From behind the shrubs… Duncan and Cory lifted Amanda and Alisaunne up the wall and then followed.

They were out! But they were on foot and filthy! And the Watchers were even now organizing a search. The immortals had to get out of sight quickly… before they were seen. Duncan pointed to an alleyway and guarded their rear as the other three beat their retreat. He would protect them all! He had to be certain they were all safe. With that thought firmly in the forefront of his mind… Duncan MacLeod backed after them slowly… watching for signs of pursuit… ready to fend the Watchers off… so that his friends … his people … his clan… could escape. For this his father had raised him! This was his destiny!

At one end of the alley… near the front of the Watcher grounds… Duncan saw movement and heard a cry go up. They'd been seen. They were coming! Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod crouched in anticipation. He pulled the automatic from its holster… and with it in one hand and his _katana _in the other… prepared to meet the enemy!


	89. Chapter 86

****

Chapter 86

Paris, _Le Blues Bar_

Joe Dawson allowed himself to be lowered into his desk chair. He gestured toward the safe.

"What's so damned important in there," Burt snapped.

"Hush," Amy snapped back. "What's the combination, Joe?"

He told her… and with each word he managed… it was harder and harder to breathe. The fire in his veins and in his lungs made him want to scream. But screaming took air… and it hurt too much to breathe. Already his thoughts were more and more jumbled in a fiery haze.

Amy dialed the combination and jerked open the door of the small safe. Burt found Joe's spare cane and handed it to him. Joe nodded weakly… his eyes on the tattered journals Amy removed from the safe. She caressed them.

"Your personal notes on MacLeod and the others? Is there one for Methos?"

Joe nodded… blinking his eyes. He wanted Amy to have them… keep them safe. He had no illusions about what would happen to them if they fell into other hands. Amy needed to know what he'd done and why he'd done it… she needed to understand and carry on for him…

Amy opened the journals one by one until she found the one she wanted. Tears sprang to her eyes as she thumbed the pages. "He did talk to you… no matter what you said all those years ago to everyone… he really did talk to you." She glanced up at him.

Joe nodded and gestured at the safe one more time. His labored breathing was getting worse. Amy shook her head. "There's nothing else in there Joe."

He pointed at the safe and pulled in a fiery breath. "False… bottom." He shuddered in the pain.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Burt snapped. Amy nodded… but Joe shrugged Burt off and gestured again at the safe.

Amy reached forward and felt around the edges of the bottom. Finally she felt two small metal rings and pulled. The heavy false bottom of the safe groaned upward and she nearly dropped it. It clanged heavily on the floor of the office as she let it go and leaned forward to feel about the revealed hole. Coming up with one additional journal she opened it curiously.

Joe gestured for it impatiently. Amy closed the book and handed it to him. She'd seen so very little… only that it seemed to be about a woman. Something clicked in her mind. Smiling she leaned closely to him and whispered in his ear. "The girl you wanted to marry all those years ago… that's hers… right Joe?"

Joe blinked his eyes. Tears sparkled in his eyes as he held it close. "Protect," he managed and shuddered again wanting to scream. The room around him was getting dark and Amy's and Burt's voices sounded further and further away.

He heard them call for Grace… and then the fire and darkness overwhelmed him and his head slipped to one side as the journal fell from his numb fingers.

Amy retrieved it and stacked it with the others, all the while sobbing. "Don't die, Dad… we need you."

Grace raced in from the bar. Without pausing she felt his forehead and his pulse. "It's thready but he's still alive."

"What about this?" Burt held up the vial with the poison.

"It would kill him."

"Maybe it _is_ the antidote," Amy insisted. "Maybe it will stop what's happening to him. He's dying and we have to do something!"

Grace shook her head. There was no way that poison could be safely administered. The only relief it would give this man was death. She rubbed her forehead trying to think her way through this. What chemicals could act like this on the human body? What could burn and not kill… offering only a burning torment for every moment the victim clung to life. Nothing made sense. How could anyone be so inhuman as to do this to anyone?

Burt's cell phone rang. He picked up on it… listened a moment and then shut it off, crying out, "Damn!"

"What?" Amy asked.

"Roberts and Tamika are dead. Langdon found their bodies at Joe's. Mischkov's body is gone." He narrowed his eyes. "Any chance he's an immortal?"

Amy shook her head. "I don't think so… not unless he didn't know and this was his first death. It's possible… I suppose."

"If he's been hunting immortals as your father's suspected… I doubt he's immortal. Someone would have felt his potential and been prepared for him," Grace added.

Joe's hand gripped hers suddenly and Grace cried out. His eyes bulged out… and his already red face was even redder. "Save them… save them all," he breathed out.

"We will… Dad," Amy said brushing his white hair from his florid face. "I promise you will save all the immortals."

Joe shook his head. "Twins!"

Amy shook her head. "The twins are safe, Joe. We took them to Mom's… remember?"

Joe's mouth worked open and shut. "He knows…" Joe once more slid into unconsciousness.

Burt stepped back. He thought about Joe's living room. Within his mind he saw furniture… lamps… desk… bookcase… pictures! Burt blanched. "He had pictures of us and the twins."

"Mischkov knew we were close… that Joe's my mentor. He wouldn't know our true relationship."

"The Granddad frame," Burt said weakly… already backing away. His children were in danger from this madman… he had to get to his children. "Stay here," Burt snapped and turned to race out of the office and into the bar.

"What's happened?" the immortal Kage asked quietly.

"Take care of the others… I have to go." Burt slammed out of the bar and into his car. Behind him he could his wife's shrieks and knew she was torn between remaining with her father and going with Burt. The children won out and she stumbled out of the bar and threw herself into the car sobbing.

"No!" Burt said and reached across her to open the door. "I can move faster without you right now. The immortals may not survive unless you help them. Only you can contact Joe's old friends. Only you can set events in motion." He kissed her lips… tasting her salty tears. "I love you," he murmured and smiled.

Amy nodded and kissed him back. "Go swiftly, Burt. Stay safe." Reluctantly she climbed out and watched as her husband drove swiftly away. Rubbing her arms… Amy returned to the bar and stared at the calm face of Kage. "I may have an idea," she said. "But I need your help."

The immortal calling himself John Kirin… nodded. "How may I help? What can I do?"

Amy licked her lips nervously. She eyed their Watcher prisoner. Kage rose and gently took her arm, maneuvering her to the far side of the bar.

"What would you have me do?"

Amy nodded and told him.

-----

****

Elsewhere in Paris

Duncan slammed his back against a wall and shouted, "I don't want to hurt you!"

The three Watchers progressed down the alley.

"Don't make me fire!" Duncan pleaded. He hefted the automatic in his hand. Once fired… it would bring others. Once he'd killed… there was no going back and the war would begin. What would happen to Ian and Methos and any others held prisoner then?

He shoved his automatic back in his waistband and held his _katana_ before him. He turned it edge down and then uppercut toward the first Watcher… knocking him backward. He flung himself back against the wall as a bullet ricocheted off the stone. He sheathed his _katana_, counted to ten… bounced and then rounded the corner in a flying kick which knocked one Watcher to the ground. He pivoted and kicked out at another striking the man's chin with his foot while his arms pummeled the third man's face. Already he could here the sounds of more closing in on him.

Then from behind him, he heard a war cry as Alisaunne swept her _katana_ around and flailed back and forth at the Watchers. Amanda appeared next to execute a couple acrobatic flips as she landed on the shoulders of one man and twisted… knocking him out as she landed on one foot and swung her leg around to connect with another's chin.

Duncan grinned, "Thought I told you to skedaddle."

Amanda dragged one Watcher off to the side and then rejoined the melee. "You can't have all the fun!"

"What makes you think this is fun," Duncan smirked as he gave one man a chop across the neck. From the corner of his eye… he noted Cory pulling pants off the downed Watcher. Before him… Alisaunne's torrent of blows had cleared several from around her. She turned and jumped… kicking out at the heads of two men. Another pulled a gun, trying to get a bead on her. Duncan flung his knife at the man's hand. It connected perfectly. The gun fell to the pavement and discharged… the bullet ricocheting off the stone walls of the nearest building. That gun had no silencer.

Sirens could be heard in the distance.

The Watchers still standing hesitated… as if uncertain whether to continue or to run.

Duncan yelled, "Let's go!" Amanda nodded and grabbed the half-dressed Cory… pushing him ahead of her. Duncan reached for the still fighting Alisaunne… once more restraining her arms as she struggled to land further blows.

"Let me go!" she screamed. "Let me kill them!"

"No!" Duncan roared in her ear. "If we kill them… we may lose Ian." His words had no effect on her this time… so lost in her bloodlust was she. He held tightly to her and yelled at the Watchers. "No one has died here today… let's keep it that way. Don't follow us… or I may not be able to stop her next time… or myself!" He lifted his struggling student and pulled her away kicking and screaming from the Watchers. With her still struggling in his arms and screaming… Duncan followed Amanda and Cory up the alley.

The bloodied and beaten Watchers still standing gazed after them, holding their sides and heads as the immortals raced from the alley, through the gawking on-lookers and into the gathering crowds on the Paris street. This fight had gone public.

-----

Two blocks down the street… Duncan released Alisaunne and pushed her against a wall… one hand over her mouth. "Stop it!" She bit his hand and attempted to knee him in the groin.

"If you don't mind my saying so," Cory said as he looked behind them for pursuers. "If you don't shut her up… we're going to have everyone after us."

"I mind," Duncan said glaring at Raines. But Cory was right. Reluctantly Duncan did the next best thing. He pulled Alisaunne's _tanto_, holding it against he ribs. "Don't make me do this," he begged.

She spit in his face… her eyes maddened, her arms pounding on his. She seemed completely lost in her bloodlust.

Duncan slipped the blade between her ribs, ramming it full hilt into her heart.

The girl's eyes widened. For a moment she stared at him curiously… as if she were once more only his student… who trusted him implicitly; then her eyes closed and she slumped. Duncan pulled the knife free and tossed her unceremoniously over his shoulder. "Nothing is ever easy," he said between gritted teeth and followed Amanda with Cory bringing up the rear. They had to find shelter… and they had to find it quickly.

-----

At the Watcher facility… LeCaron shoved the excess pads from his face… letting the blood spurt forth once more. He grabbed the front of the young woman's blouse who was tending to him. "Rawlins… call Rawlins!" He slumped back.

The Watcher nodded and began again to adjust the pads over her boss' bleeding face. She'd not understood his garbled words. From what she could tell… not only were his teeth shattered… but also part of his tongue had been shot away in the battle. His nose was broken and his eyes swollen shut from the beating he'd taken. She called for a morphine syringe to dull his pain. From the shots outside… she trusted that the others were dealing with the intruders… whoever they'd been. Glancing around the cellar room… she noted the gurney and IV pole. She wondered what the hell had been going on down here. As soon as LeCaron was stable and in hospital… she intended to call _Monsieur_ Mischkov and report on the situation. Surely he would know what to do. When handed the syringe… she bent to give LeCaron the injection.


	90. Chapter 87

**WARNING: **_One portion of this chapter contains some material that might be offensive. I needed to spell something out that plays into an upcoming chapter. However... if there is a problem... I will gladly remove it. --_ elle

**Chapter 87**

**Watcher Compound**

"This deal is getting increasingly messy," Julius Wilderman muttered to Claire Romney. "I truly think this man is mad."

Claire nodded almost imperceptibly but said nothing. Around here… even the walls had ears.

Wilderman punched mathematical formulas into his PPC and grimaced. "We are moving too fast with this project. There are too many variables. Why won't he listen to me?"

"He wants results," Claire replied evenly, hoping that those words could not be used against her.

Wilderman sighed. "I'll get the other one. You finish up with number 47." His eyes traveled over the restrained form of this specimen. At first, Rawlins had wanted to save this one until they had all the problems solved… until they fully understood what was happening. But in the last twelve hours he'd railed and insisted it was time.

"Without his dream partner… we may get nowhere," Wilderman had warned Rawlins.

"You said you were beginning to force them to cooperate… true?" When Wilderman nodded, Henry Rawlins had smiled. "Then force this one. Double the doses again… but force him. Drag his partner into the dream with him."

"That much will kill him… or leave him brain dead," Wilderman had explained.

"If he dies… he'll be back. And if his brain dies… you'll follow him into death. Do whatever it takes Julius. I have faith in you… but I want results."

So Wilderman had no choice. He'd spent the past few hours observing older and older specimens as they bent to his will… as they entered the dream scenarios and performed as expected… no longer fighting the stimuli. Following the last several experiments… one of every pair had flat-lined. They still lived… but whether they'd ever have cognitive minds again was uncertain. He had to do something… or all his data… all his hopes for the future… for mankind… would be lost in one man's mad desire for understanding.

Wilderman stopped at the cubicle of number 12 and swept the curtain aside.

Jacko… number 12's handler jerked his hand from between her legs and looked at Wilderman guiltily. Wilderman let out a small controlled breath. He'd known for some time that some of the handlers were mistreating the specimens. Some in shaving their charges purposely sliced them open and watched wide-eyed as they healed. Some had taken to betting on how long it took for certain specimens to revive if they were killed. And then there was this. The female specimens were often raped or fondled. The males sometimes stroked as handlers tried to elicit responses from them. Wilderman did not condone any of this… but as it did not impinge on his experiments… he'd turned a blind eye to all of it.

"We need number 12," he said flatly.

Jacko looked askance. "But I thought she was to be saved for later."

"So did I… but her test has been moved up. I need her in fifteen minutes." Wilderman pivoted and marched out… his stomach in knots as he thought about what he was allowing to go on in this place. Was this any more humane than what the Nazis had done during World War II? He shuddered, recalling those days of his childhood and the camps. For a moment he smelled again the stench of the ovens. He'd sworn when freed that never again would anything like that ever happen.

"These aren't people," Rawlins had insisted when they'd begun gathering the specimens. But they _were_ people. The tests had proven it. They were just people who couldn't die permanently unless their heads were removed. Other than that one that Rawlins had insisted on killing for the data… the specimens lived… if one could call it living. Wilderman feared he had become his own worst enemy. He had become the new Joseph Mengele. His name would now be spoken… not in honor… but in hushed and horrified tones by others. _Julius Wilderman… he's the scientist who tortured the immortals._ Tears sprang to Wilderman's eyes and he ducked into a cubicle where only a flat-lined immortal lay. Placing a hand over his own eyes… Wilderman sobbed for himself… for his dreams of a Nobel Prize… and for the _lives_ of these people that he was destroying.

-----

Jacko ran warm water into the basin and added the soap. He rubbed the soap against the sponge and then stared at his charge.

"It seems our time is nearly done." He always talked to her. He was, in fact, fond of the woman… in his own way." He dragged the sheet from her and leered at her perfectly formed body. He let one hand trace along her side softly until it cupped one breast. Closing his eyes he massaged it. It was important to massage and work the limbs of the charges… so that they maintained muscle tone and strength. Or so he'd been told, although he didn't think the teachers at the nurses training school had meant this sort of massage. He pinched her. Her placid face showed no response.

In the early days, they'd responded to some physical stimuli. But when some of them had begun to fight their way out of the drugs… the dosage had been increased. Now… none of them responded any longer.

Jacko squeezed the sponge and began to wash her. He'd shaved her head yesterday… so that he would not have to do that today. That gave him a few precious moments.

Glancing at the closed curtain Jacko rested the sponge high between her legs and inched his fingers around it to caress her. With his other hand… he reached up and slowly stopped the flow of drugs. He'd have to be careful… but he'd already put the restraints on… there was no way she could get free.

He began to lick his lips and breath shallowly as he worked his hand.

A small gasp escaped from her parted lips. He leaned to kiss her… inserting his tongue into her mouth and teasing it about. His hand worked faster. Her leg muscles tightened and her hips began to tilt. He worked faster. One hand on the IV… ready to open the flow once more… one hand massaging number 12. He began to shiver himself and knew that her responding to him this day would surely mean he would as well.

Her eyes snapped open as she stared at him wildly. He opened the flow and then slammed his free hand over her mouth as he continued to caress her.

Her eyes glazed over and she lay as one dead.

Jacko pulled back the hand over her mouth and took care of himself… groaning in pleasure. When finished… he calmly took the sponge he'd been using to wash her and washed himself.

He adjusted his uniform… kissed number 12 goodbye… and wheeled her down to the laboratory area where he left her with the technicians there. He watched as they inserted probes into her head and tightened the restraints. They hooked a new set of solutions to her IV, and inserted a barrage of medications into the line as certain levels were reached. Glancing at the fabled number 47, Jacko had no hope that _his_ charge would emerge with her mind intact. Sadly he kissed his fingers, aware of the scent of her still on them, and gestured toward her. "Goodbye number 12," he said, pivoted, and walked away.

In the lab area behind him… Jacko could hear Wilderman's voice as he counted down until they'd begin the experiment.

Above on the catwalk… Henry Rawlins smirked in anticipation. Finally… he would have his answers. He nodded at the attendant who'd brought number 12… chuckling over the man's apparent fascination for his charge. Rawlins had seen everything. He always did. He was himself a bit excited. Perhaps he'd get one of the female technicians to help ease his tension later in celebration. He eyed Claire Romney. She was close to Wilderman… perhaps he could get some information out of her that Wilderman had yet to share.

Rawlins breathed out raggedly, aware that he was more worked up than normal. Too bad there wasn't time before this experiment for a real relaxation. Rawlins closed his eyes briefly and recalled the very talented Meaghann Reilly. Once finished here… he thought he just might pay another call on her… or have her brought to him. She was in a cell on one of the upper levels. He'd kept her alive… hoping against hope for the day when he could use her to trap MacLeod. That day had never come. But, as he'd told her years ago, she had other talents, and other ways to keep him happy.

-----

****

Athens

Ursa stared nervously out the gate. He'd been increasingly nervous and aware that he needed to be elsewhere. He didn't know how… and he didn't know why… but the oldest voices within him were screaming that Nestor was free once more.

Ursa did not believe this. They had to be lying to him. Usually the Old Ones said little… and what they did say often made no sense to him. But Nestor was dead. His voice lived in Nick… but was trapped. He couldn't be free.

Ursa held his hands to his head and closed his eyes. He moaned as the yammering of a thousand tongues lashed at him in unknown words. He whirled about the small courtyard… slamming into the table and upsetting the chairs. He had to stop this before it went too far. He had to get to Nick!

Sweeping his great bladed scythe from where it rested, he strode across the courtyard and pulled mightily at the locked gates. They broke free with a wrench. Ursa tossed the gates to the ground and passed through the opening.

Behind him he heard the small one cry out… begging him to stop and stay with her. One of a thousand voices reminded him that he was to protect the small ones until the Gathering. He shook his head and continued down the street… oblivious of the stares. His walk became a lope and his lope was finally a slow run down the narrow winding streets. His eyes were on the ocean and the boats. They'd come by boat… he'd get a boat and go back. Somehow he'd know where to go.

He heard whistles and cries about him as men held others back while some men closed about him. Ursa swung his great blade with a roar. Why didn't they understand? Didn't the others know he would protect them as well? They should withdraw and let him go on his way. But as it had always been… from the first of the memories he still had… the others surrounded him. They pushed at him… they poked him… and now… today… they fired stinging pellets at him. He swept them all before him. He would not be stopped. The others hung from him his arms and his legs. Hands grasped at his head and the pellets kept coming. Finally he staggered. His strength ebbed. Blood poured from a dozen small holes. He fell to his knees.

"Stop it!" he heard the small one say and attempt to her way through to him. "Stop it… don't hurt him?" she cried.

One of the uniformed others swept the small one into his arms and carried her away. Ursa could hear her calling for him. But it was time to sleep. Everything was so very dark. Everything was moving so slowly. Even the voices and cries of the others were slow and deep as his own. He swept his blade before him once more and then tumbled into darkness.

On the edge of the crowd… a man spoke into his cell phone. "Found him!"


	91. Chapter 88

****

Chapter 88

Paris, _Le Blues Bar_

"I won't hear of it," Grace stammered.

"Grace… it has to be me." John pointed towards Joe, whom they'd stretched out on the sofa in his office. The Watcher was still breathing raggedly, and his flushed color was a sure sign that he was in respiratory distress.

"You are needed here and this is something I can do."

Tears sprang to Grace's eyes as she shook her head. "It's not fair."

John smiled and reached to pull her into his arms. He kissed her eyelids gently. "Life is not fair. It's the only way. It has to be me."

Grace pulled away with a sob.

Amy, sitting by Joe and stroking his hair… feeling the hot flush of his brow nodded sadly. "Burt and Dad had a plan to find the missing immortals. But Dad's unconscious and Burt's gone. He told me to put things in motion… I can contact his people and I can contact Joe's friends. But I don't know how to contact Dad's other immortal friends. You two are all I know."

Grace stared at the two mortals sadly. Dawson needed to be in hospital and Amy was clearly torn between wanting to go with her husband to rescue their children… and being here for her father. And… she was suddenly in charge.

"All right." Grace agreed. "I'll do it… but you hear me right now John Kirin… you _will_ come back safely."

"I have no intention of dying, Grace. But I can't let anyone else die… especially mortals." He glanced at the closet where they'd tied and gagged the Watcher.

Grace sat heavily in a chair and nodded. "I need a knife."

John pulled one out of his pocket and unfolded it. "I have this… will it work?" He handed it to Grace, who nodded.

"Bandages?"

Amy pulled a First Aid kit from a drawer of Joe's desk and tossed it on the surface. Grace opened it and looked through it. She nodded and arranged disinfectant, bandages, and a pair of tweezers. She lit a match and ran both the tweezers and the knife through the flame and faced Amy grimly. "You still need to see about a tetanus shot."

Amy laughed and nodded. Grace poured disinfectant on the knife as Amy pulled up her skirt and pointed out the location of the transponder. Grace palpitated the area and nodded. "It's not too deep… but this is going to hurt." Amy took a deep breath and nodded.

"Be ready," Grace said to John who sat beside her and lay one arm on the desk… palm up. Grace sliced into Amy's leg and handed John the knife. She staunched the flow of blood… picked up the tweezers … poured on the disinfectant and probed the wound for the transponder.

John jabbed the knife into his arm and made a slit… turning the knife to hold the cut open and unhealed. He gritted his teeth at the pain. Grace pulled the transponder from Amy's leg and inserted it into John's arm. She tossed the tweezers down and grabbed gauze pads to press on Amy's wound. John pulled the knife free of his cut and held his hand over it… and then wiped away the blood. There was, of course, no sign that he'd ever cut his arm.

"Wish I healed like that," Amy said weakly as Grace worked on bandaging her leg.

"No you don't," John Kirin replied. "You wouldn't want to do what we have to do in order to survive."

Amy stared at him and nodded. Tears were in her eyes. Gratefully she swallowed two aspirin and some water.

John handed Grace the knife. "I doubt I will need that," he said with a smile. Rising, he pulled Grace after him as they left the mortals in the office and entered the bar.

Amy watched them go and placed a cool cloth on Joe's brow. "I hope I'm doing the right thing, Dad… I hope I'm doing what you'd do."

Joe lay quietly and there was no sign he'd heard her. His breath seemed to rattle in his chest.

A strangled sob escaped Amy's throat as she covered her eyes. Her shoulders shook. She could lose them all today. If Mischkov got to Liverpool… she could lose her children and her mother. If Burt caught up with the man… he could die. And Joe's life was slipping away as she watched. She'd never felt so helpless. And here she was… having to head up an operation to save the lives of people she didn't even know… not really… not even Methos. She likely knew more about him than any Watcher except Joe… but she didn't really _know_ him. He'd once saved her life… but she didn't know him.

In the bar Grace and John said a tearful goodbye. He cupped her chin with a smile. "I'll be back… just make certain you come for me."

Grace nodded.

He kissed her and she clung to him. Then she let him go and he stepped back. Glancing out the window into the deserted street he sighed. He squeezed her hand. Dropping it he turned and left… closing the bar door softly behind him. Grace reached and turned the lock to bolt the door and then backed against it as tears fell.

Of all the immortal men she'd ever known in her long life… John had never asked anything of her… never demanded more from her than she was willing to give. And now… he'd pleaded for her to let him go. Grace had sincere doubts she'd ever see him again… or ever find anyone else, if she survived, to take his place.

-----

As he strolled along the deserted streets… John Kage Kirin as he sometimes thought of himself… letting his old identity be a part of the new one so that he'd remember always what he'd done… and how much he still had to atone for… drank in the calm of the early Paris day. Residents and workers were just now beginning to exit onto the streets on their way to work… or play… or shopping… or any of a thousand activities. They were oblivious to the war going on in their midst. They saw only their petty quarrels with co-workers, friends, family, and the government. They did not see the life and death struggle for survival which played out in the shadows for those few who'd been created different… the immortals.

As if their struggle for survival was not enough… as if their battles with one another for supremacy and the prize were not enough… now mortals would destroy them. John had no idea why this had happened… he only knew that he was in a position to end it.

Slowly he made his way toward the _Arc de Triomphe_ on the far side of the Seine. He didn't know if he'd get that far. Surely some passing vehicle of Watchers would see him. They were all surely looking for them. He would not resist. He would go with them quietly… and trust in Amy Meyers and her people to find him. He had no choice. People were dying… not because of anything he had done… but more would die if he failed to do this.

If he did nothing… if he hid… instead of helping… he would be as guilty as they were. Someone had to step forward and make the sacrifice. That he was facing the loss of his life as he knew it… that he might never see Grace again made him realize how blessed he had been that she had been a part of his life these past few years.

He smiled, recalling the day they'd met at that medical mission in Africa. He'd heard that Marielle… that small immortal he'd briefly known in Cambodia… was there and he'd gone to see her. Grace was also there… and in Grace… he'd become even more fully John Kirin than he'd thought possible. He understood her desire to help mortals… and knew that between the two of them… they could make a difference. They could save mortal lives… physically, emotionally, and even financially… one day at a time… one mortal at a time.

In each other they'd also found love… and that had been the greatest gift… an unlooked for gift for a man who'd never believed love was possible for such as he. He'd been the worst type of immortal possible for millennia. He'd made his living… supported his lifestyle… on the pain and suffering of mortals. He had so much to make up for. He wondered if even a thousand years would begin to wash clean the blood on his hands. And now… if he died… he'd only barely begun to atone… how could thirty-oddyears begin to make up for what he'd done. It couldn't.

As he crossed the _pont_, John gazed ahead of him at the _Place de la Concorde_ where once the guillotine had stood. He paused for a moment there and sighed as he rounded the obelisk. So much death… so much hatred. How could any man fail to be moved?

Then he turned left to gaze up the _Avenue de Champs Elyséss_. He put his hands behind him and continued his stroll. He was some two hundred feet from reaching the _Arc_ when a dark green van pulled along side of him and two armed men got out.

John Kage Kirin turned to face them with a smile. "How may I help you gentlemen?"


	92. Chapter 89

****

Chapter 89

__

Within the Dream

Methos strode through the horsemen's camp as if he were king in all but name. About him the slaves, casting their eyes downward, scurried to stay out of his way. They feared him… they feared him even more than Caspian who tortured and brutalized them. They feared him more than the wild excesses of Kronos or the force and rape that was Silas. They feared him because they said he was death… and could steal their souls if they gazed into his eyes. They believed he knew their minds and could steal their thoughts and turn them against them. He was Death… the Death that walked.

Kronos slung an arm over his shoulders and chortled, "Brother, I have a treat for you." Laughing and guiding Methos into one of the tents he practically danced in glee.

Inside the tent Methos saw a naked and struggling Cassandra lying on furs… her eyes darted about wildly as Caspian held her arms and Silas held her feet.

"We share everything, Brother… everything!" Kronos whispered. He knelt at Cassandra's side and ran his hands over her.

"Methos," she cried. "Stop him! Help me!"

Kronos grinned and arched his eyebrows at his brother. "She thinks you care about her. She thinks you'd betray us and help her. She knows nothing… does she Brother."

Methos heart lurched within him. This wasn't real! Even then… when it had been real, he had cared… and his shame at failing her had been part of the reason he'd let her go. He did care about her! He always had! But he couldn't help her. Not here! Not now! To help her would mean his death. Would she ever understand? He smirked. "Have fun, Brothers!" He leaned languidly against a tent pole and kept the smirk that was a lie firmly planted on his face.

Kronos laughed and lowered himself onto Cassandra to take his pleasure. When finished he motioned for Silas to take his turn.

Cassandra screeched and fought as the big man thrust into her with such power that he nearly destroyed her. Caspian licked her face as she screamed and Kronos held her legs. But it was Methos' smile that was the cruelest hurt.

Silas shivered in release and roared as he rose.

"I should have gone second," Caspian grumbled.

"Ah… my brother… but you ruin them so," Kronos chuckled as Caspian handed Cassandra's hands off to Silas. The third horseman took his position.

He pulled a knife and leered at Cassandra. "I've so looked forward to this. How fast do you heal?"

Cassandra screamed ever louder. "Methos!"

Methos shivered as he watched what Caspian did… taking pleasure in Cassandra's torment. He closed his eyes. No… this scene had never happened. Kronos had raped her… yes. Methos knew that… but he hadn't watched it. He'd huddled in his tent and listened to her cries. He'd watched as she'd escaped and he raised no alarm. He'd made certain in all the years that followed… that Kronos had never known that Methos could have prevented Cassandra's escape. But within this dream… he was powerless.

A silky arm slipped about him beneath his clothes. She was here… she was always here. Methos betrayed nothing. If the others knew of her… if they saw her… they'd rape her too… and he could not bear the thought. He'd tear them limb from limb if they touched her.

He did not dare raise his hands to muffle the sounds of Cassandra's screams. He did not dare to be seen as anything other than smirking Death.

"Who is that behind you?" Kronos suddenly asked. "Remember, Brother… we share everything."

"Your eyes betray you, Brother. There is no one behind me." Methos straightened and adjusted his cloak, hoping they would not know she was there.

Caspian cackled and raised his bloody knife, licking it. "Your turn Brother."

"Your leavings… I think not," Methos said darkly and turned to withdraw.

Kronos grasped his arm.

Methos reminded himself that this was not real… it couldn't be real.

"We share everything. If you do not join us… then you deny our brotherhood." The menace in Kronos' eyes worried Methos. It had always worried him. He would have to play the part or they would know who he truly was.

He faced Cassandra's battered form solemnly, aware that she lived… aware that she was helpless. She moaned as he came closer and knelt between her legs.

He focused instead on the woman sliding along his skin beneath his clothes. He lowered himself onto Cassandra and knew the other was between them. It was her he would love… it was her he would be with… physically and mentally. His mind focused on her… his beloved … his wife… his Eleanor.

__

I am here my dearest. I will never leave you… nor close my heart to you for as long as you wish me with you.

Methos smiled and focused on her. His mouth eagerly found hers and his hands slipped through her long dark hair and onto her neck. He was hers and she was his… and _this_ dream became his reality… while the other faded away… until it was nothing… only shadows that occupied the darkest corner in his mind. This scene had never happened… it was a twisted memory born of fear and self-hatred. This was what Cassandra recalled… this was her nightmare… not his. He rolled away with Eleanor in his arms.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

"We're losing him… they're separating."

"Increase the dosage!"

"I can't! We're at maximum now! Any more will kill them both. He's still too strong … we can't control him."

Rawlins stormed about the lab area and shoved personnel and equipment. "He was there… he was in her dream… we had him! What happened?"

Wilderman pulled off his spectacles and rubbed one hand on his balding head. "Mr. Rawlins… it's as I tried to explain. We're not ready yet for this. They are too old and too powerful. We still need some that fall between their ages and the age of those we have. We have to slowly work up to this."

Rawlins seethed.

"Doctor," Claire Romney's voice sounded from the control console. You have to see this."

Wilderman and Rawlins both crossed to the monitors.

Number 12's scan was calm as if she slept peacefully, while number 47's double line arced up and down as if the two were of one mind. Then it reached a peak and subsided. But this time… the second line did not fade… but mirrored number 47's primary thought line as it fell to a resting point indicating deep sleep.

"We have him!" Rawlins exclaimed gleefully. "We have the dream partner trapped! He'll be easy to find now."

"You're so certain it's a male?"

Rawlins nodded. "The double quickening must have joined them somehow. They share one another's dreams… even if they are unaware of them. Keep him at this level. With the partner trapped with him in the dream… we should have no problem finding him and bringing him in."

Rawlins pivoted and slapped his hands together gleefully. "I'll be upstairs."

-----

**__**

Within the Dream

Cassandra sank into the green depths of the ocean. The water seemed warm somehow… as if kissed by the sun even at great depths… or by warm currents from some underwater thermal. She floated about in the green depths… her hair tangling about her.

Firm but gentle hands caught her as she descended and slowly pulled her heavenward until she rested on the lolling surface of the ocean… bathed in warm salt spray that sparkled merrily in the sunlight.

__

Rest Child, and heal, came the voice of the Ancient One that Cassandra had once known as Lilith. _It was only a nightmare born of pain and was not real. They are all dead, and cannot hurt you ever again._

He lives, Cassandra thought back at the voice. _He stood by and did nothing._

Methos is not your concern, Child, he never was, the voice soothed in the lilting tones of the waves as they crashed about her. _The boy was mine! He was always mine! And I have claimed him!_

He must pay! Cassandra screamed silently. _He must pay!_

He has always paid, Child. For three thousand years he has paid the price for not defending you. In every thing he has done since that day… in every woman he has loved and failed… he has paid the price. In every friend he has failed to protect… in every lie told… and every evasion of truth… he has paid… and is paying still. As long as he lives… he will pay in his guilt and shame at his actions that day. That is his punishment… and his torment… to know he stood by and did nothing. Do not begrudge him what little happiness he has. You are a part of his soul… as he is a part of yours. We are One, Child… we have always been One.

Cassandra drifted quietly in the arms of the Ocean… beneath a Sky that was a calm and dreamy blue. In the distance… she knew was the tormented land… heaving in the fires of destruction. But for here and for now… she was at peace. For the first time in three thousand years… she was at peace.

-----

Methos stretched in their bed and watched the dappled pattern of morning light move across the bedclothes covering them. Eleanor lay curled at his side, one hand tracing the old patterns across his bare chest. He hugged her to him. Some part of him knew that she wasn't really here… that they were not here… but it didn't matter. The dream was real… and in the dream they were at last together.

She laughed. "A brass farthing for your thoughts!"

"A brass farthing? A brass farthing is worthless! Is that all my thoughts mean to you?" He kissed the tip of her nose, aware that she was teasing him.

She shifted in his arms and nestled against him. "I like it here. I don't ever want to leave."

"And I don't want you to go," he replied. He ran his hands lightly over her bare skin, tracing the patterns wherever he touched. They flamed in his mind like shifting pages of manuscript on the computer. He paused.

"That's it," he whispered to her. "That's what the pages are. In the right order… they make the patterns! They're not just for us… they're for all of us!"

"We are all One?" she asked. "Even with our enemies?"

Methos nodded. "That has to be it. We have to get the word out. We have to stop the slaughter before it's too late!"

Eleanor rose on her arms. "How?"

Methos ran one hand through her dark hair, noting the single stand of purest silver. "I don't know. To tell them… you'd have to go."

"You want me to leave?"

"No…" he said sadly and kissed her, pulling her onto him and feeling her settle comfortably and begin to move. "I want you to stay with me forever."

-----

Later… he held her in the crook of his arm and gazed down at her, letting one hand trace over her face and neck. "Never leave me," he begged. "I need you. I've been so lonely here without you."

Eleanor reached up and brushed his dark hair from his eyes. She smiled. "Then I will stay." Her fingers trailed over his neck. And in that moment… the unity held them and time stood still.


	93. Chapter 90

_NOTE: Because this chapter is short... you will get another entry later today. Be on the lookout as many questions will be finally answered shortly._ --elle

**Chapter 90**

**Paris, the grove**

Derrick had risen early and crept down the stairs to practice. For some time he'd been going through the motions with the sword. He stepped to the side, uppercut holding the hilt with both hands, pulled back and stabbed forward with a lunge. Then he pulled back and swung to his left, stepping into the turn as he stabbed downward. He pulled back once more, pivoted and swiveled the great sword in his right hand and then executed a series of strokes… up, down, left, left again, up, and finally right. This time he turned so that the great sword was in his left hand and he sliced to the left.

His dreams last night had been of battles he'd never fought. Those had been the first dreams he'd had since Ellie had been burned back in Scotland. The voices of Darius and the old ones were still silent… but the battles played before his eyes. He could see the opponents that all of them had faced at one time or another… he could recall the moves needed to counter each attack.

When he finally stopped his practice session, he leaned over the spring and splashed cold water into his face. He glanced up. The sun was moving ever higher in the sky and Ellie was still abed. She'd come back through the sewers last night from Joe's and had said nothing before closing her door. Derrick knew she was hurting and he had no idea how to ease her pain. She longed for Methos with every breath she took… and Derrick had no idea how to help her.

He lay the great sword against the stones of the spring and straightened… straining to hear if she was up. When she was up she used to sing and hum. She hadn't sung since Methos had left them in Scotland. Thoughtfully Derrick climbed the stairs two at a time and entered their quarters.

The main room was still empty and her door was still closed.

Derrick lay his ear on the door and listened. He heard nothing. He knocked. "Ellie… it's getting late." There was no answer. He knocked more loudly and called again, "Ellie?" Still nothing. Remembering that trying to wake her was how he'd been hurt recently… he glanced at the healing cut on his arm. He'd taken the bandages off earlier and wanted to scratch the flaking scab away… but had not done so… feeling that Ellie would want to see it first. He knocked again.

Finally he lifted the latch and cracked open the door. Through the crack he saw her bed. It was unmade… the bedclothes were thrown back… and it was empty. Curiously he entered. "Ellie?" he called again.

Then he saw her on the floor… lying in a patch of sunlight beating through the window. She was on her side and lay so still he feared she was dead. He crouched next to her. Slowly he stretched a hand forth to shake her. He paused before touching her… his hand trembling. "Ellie," he said again. She shifted… but did not wake.

Derrick closed his eyes… thankful. "_She lives!_" he thought… and felt relief. He could see both of her hands stretched out before her. Her fingers wriggled back and forth in patterns over and over. He'd seen both she and Methos move their fingers that way when they touched one another and thought no one saw. Over and over her fingers moved and a small whimper escaped from her.

Derrick swallowed nervously as he gently shook her… snatching his arm back fearfully… as if she would attack once more. But she seemed oblivious of his touch. He shook her again… more firmly. Still she lay unconscious… her fingers moving over and over. "Ellie," he said with desperation. "Ellie!" His voice rose in fear. She did not seem to hear him. He shook her more forcefully.

Ellie shifted and rolled on her back… still her fingers moved. Her eyes snapped open… but only the whites showed. Her mouth opened but no words or sounds issued forth.

Derrick felt her brow. It was cold… so very cold. He had to get her warmed up. He cradled her into his arms and staggered to his feet, suddenly surprised at how little she weighed… as if she were an empty flask filled only with light. He lay her on the bed and pulled the covers over her as he brushed her dark hair from her eyes.

Something tickled at the back of his mind. He'd seen her this way before… no not this way… but here… in this room… and she'd needed him… she'd needed help to survive.

Something clicked in his mind and he gasped. Derrick understood what had happened! He saw it clearly and he saw what needed to be done. He fell to the floor and scrambled away from her moaning as he did so. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. She was dying and he had to save her! Darius had saved her then! Could he do less? Yet how?

Beneath her bed he saw the knife she'd used on him the other day. It still lay on the floor where he'd kicked it. He reached forward and grasped it, holding it in his hands and turning it over and over. Ellie would die unless she had help! She needed an immortal! He wasn't immortal… but he could be.

A strangled cry escaped him as he tossed the knife away. Knowing what he knew… how could he chance it? Too often those such as himself who knew what they were… attempted this. Invariably they died and were never reborn. He shouldn't know! They'd tried to keep it from him! If he hadn't met them… if he hadn't been a part of their lives… he wouldn't know! He wouldn't have remembered! He'd be blissfully unaware in some other part of the world, as he should have been.

He scrambled across the floor and picked up the knife once more.

Where should he cut? What would be the swiftest… the most surprising? What cut would allow him to die and be swiftly reborn?

He held the point to his throat and pushed. He stopped. No… not the throat. That was too dangerous. He pulled it away. Derrick turned up his wrist and positioned the knife to slice it open. No… that was too slow. There would be no sudden shock of death in that method. Then how? He placed the knife over his heart. Then he stared morosely at Ellie's bed.

What if he didn't come back? What if it took too long? What if by some miracle she woke and she found him dead? Could he chance it? If he died permanently… who would help her? What if he was wrong? What if he wasn't meant to be an immortal?

Derrick sobbed. "You have to have an immortal help you! What should I do? Tell me what to do?" It wasn't Ellie he expected answers from… but from the silence within him. He drew his knees up and grabbed them. He wailed aloud and then lowered his head sobbing. "Tell me what to do! She can't die! I won't let her die!" But the voices remained silent. In his right hand… he still clutched the knife. Thoughtfully he raised it, positioned it… and closed his eyes. "I won't let her die."


	94. Entr'acte Three

_This is the second of two posts to be posted today._ --elle

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Entr'acte Three_**

_Paris, May 1985_

_you used to captivate me  
by your resonating light  
but now i'm bound by the life you left behind_

from_ **My Immorta**l _recorded by Evanescence__

The early morning mass had gone well. Darius' small homily on the importance of sacrifice had resonated, or so it seemed, with the dozen or so regular parishioners who attended the early service. He stood at the entrance of _St. Julien Le Pauvre_ and shook hands and made small talk.

He'd been in an excellent mood the past few days. True he felt a bit wiped out… unusually weak as he'd left _Notre Dame_ and Methos and Eleanor Thursday night. He'd seen the love in their eyes and taken the chance. He'd been unwilling to explain to them… tell them what he was doing… He wasn't certain it would work…

He'd embraced them both and focused the power within him at them both. He'd felt the change in them… and he'd felt the change in himself. Some part of him was gone. Something of the Ancients was no longer with him. Something still was… he knew… but something was also gone. Some part of them had reached for Kritis inside Eleanor, and the part of themselves that had dwelt also in Methos and Eleanor… and made the leap. He'd let it go joyfully… hoping that by this sacrifice… the future would be born.

It always took three. He'd stared last week at the juxtaposition of a tomb rubbing from a Mayan burial site, a carved Venus found at one of the caves west of here during World War II… and the photograph of the Egyptian obelisk. He'd shifted the photograph to the left and suddenly it had made sense to him.

The three together completed the symbol for rebirth.

Aja had whispered it to him as he saw it. Havron had shouted triumph! And Darius had realized how it was that immortals did not have children… but how it was possible.

It takes three.

There must be a bearer, a sire, and the quickener.

Darius had quickened them and sent them off. He'd explain things to them when next he saw them. He'd apologize for not explaining earlier… he'd been uncertain about it… He truly hadn't understood any of it until he'd held them both and gave part of himself to them so that through their love… a child would be born. And with the birth of that child… would come the knowledge of the possibilities of the future… and the understanding of their shared past. A child… born to immortal parents would be the fulfillment of the Game… A child would be the key to the prize that they all sought. They would Gather together… all that remained… and they would embrace the future and make peace with the past.

Darius waved farewell to the last of his parishioners and was turning to shut the door when he saw a disheveled Eleanor stagger through the gate. Several people looked askance at her. She walked as one drunk or on drugs.

Stopping at the door she wavered… her mouth moved open and shut. "Darius…" a voice issued from her… a voice that wasn't hers. "Help us… " She collapsed into his arms.

"Do you need help _pere_?" old Marcel asked, returning to the church door.

"_Non_… Marcel… I can handle this," Darius replied and waved him off.

He brushed Eleanor's tangled hair from her face and felt her feverish brow.

Her eyes fluttered. "Help us Darius!" the voice whispered from her slack mouth.

He picked her up and regardless of the danger swiftly carried her across the street, then down the block to the covered archway between the two ground floor apartments of the false building. He set her down and reached for the key he kept in his robes. Unlocking the gate he carried her in and locked it behind him. Then he carried her to the spring.

As she lay on the grass he cupped water into his hands and held it to her lips. Some went in her mouth. She coughed and swallowed.

"The water does nothing for us," he said, "… but maybe this time it will as you need something. I don't know what else to do."

Eleanor whimpered.

Darius leaned back against the rocks and held his head in his hands. What had happened? What had gone wrong? Or was this normal… the way of life and death for their kind? Had he done wrong? Was this his fault? Where was Methos? Why wasn't he here?

Darius' mind was a whirl of questions and doubts.

Finding no answers in the silence within him, he finally gathered her into his arms once more and carried her upstairs to her bed. He straightened her legs and arms and brushed her hair back. She was perspiring heavily. Sitting on the edge of the bed he sighed and reached down to pull the covers up. As his hand passed her abdomen he felt a pull… something needed him.

Darius hesitated and then gently lay his hand on her. His strength was being pulled from him. The developing child within was hungry and needed to be fed. Its rapid development needing more and more of the life force which sustained immortals. Like any child… it knew only that it was hungry and that it needed. Darius relaxed his hand and felt the draw of life. He gave it.

Eleanor's color improved and her fever seemed to break. Evidently she'd been nearly drained. Darius smiled as he felt her brow with one hand and continued to let his life pour into the child. It needed so much… and he had it to give. He gave it willingly. He would not let her die.

Finally the draining seemed to stop and the child seemed to sleep. Darius noticed that Eleanor's abdomen protruded slightly like a woman entering her second trimester. He sat back and crossed his arms… rubbing one hand thoughtfully across his mouth. This was unexpected. The child shouldn't form so fast. It should be like any mortal pregnancy. No wonder she was being drained… The growing infant needed nine months' worth of strength and power in days… not months. Eleanor had never had much strength. That was partially his fault.

He'd convinced her eight hundred years ago of the rightness of his path… of the need for immortals to serve and care for the mortals around them. He'd sensed her capacity for service and her innate ability to give of herself to those around her in those early days… and he'd built on that. She'd managed to stay out of the way of challenges in an attempt to honor his wishes. That she'd never taken a head… killed an immortal and absorbed a quickening ever… had never occurred to him at the time. Not until she was burned in that fire. He'd seen then that her strength was waning… that it took so long for her to heal from burns that for most immortals healed in hours.

He'd pushed her out into the world after that… even more than before. When she'd finally taken that first quickening… from the man who'd come for him… the man who'd held the quickening of the last of the three Ancients… he'd realized that it was her first. He should have died that day! He had been ready to die and allow the Ancients to at last be reunited. He'd known that his quickening would reform Kae Dhun much as he'd been reformed. But when Eleanor had taken it… the Ancients had feared that her guilt at killing Darius would destroy her.

Darius stroked her brow… feeling that already her temperature was rising once more. The child wanted more than she could give. It would consume her utterly… and there would be nothing left. "No!" he said aloud. "I will _not_ let this happen. She had no choice in this… and I will end it."

Rising he went to the outer room and pulled a knife from a drawer. He stared back at her through the open door.

Resolutely he returned and folded back the sheet. He sliced open her dress down the front and eased her out of it. His hand rested on her once more and he felt the need of the child for more and more. Shaking his head he lifted the knife and prepared to plunge it in and carve this cancer from her. Eleanor would not die if he could help it!

"_Wait!_"

Darius paused at the collective voice of the Ancient within her spoke.

"Why should I wait? She's dying!"

"_Yes._"

"I won't allow this!"

"_Would you destroy the future?_"

"Without her…" Darius insisted, "There is no future."

"_She chose another… not you… She is not your future._"

"I don't care… I will not let her die for this."

"_What would you do? To save her and the future?_"

Darius' brows knotted at the thought. "I would pay any price," he finally whispered.

"_Then wait!_"

Darius angrily shook his head.

Within him suddenly, the small voice of Aja sounded for the first time in days. "_Wait my warrior, just a little while longer before you act. Do as you have done… and wait. Then they will both survive._"

Darius lay the knife down and replaced his hand on her abdomen. Again he felt the small drain that fed on him. Again he noted that Eleanor's color improved. He nodded his agreement. Her life was important… but so was this child. This child was the future of all of them. In this child would be all the answers when the time was right. Instinctively he knew this. Smiling… he stretched out beside Eleanor and let his soul feed theirs.

By nightfall… the time had come. Darius rose and positioned the knife carefully. He hated to hurt Eleanor in any way… but this was necessary. His stroke was swift… born of the memories of a thousand battles… a hundred challenges. He reached in and pulled the infant out. So small she was… she lay in the palm of his hand… bloodied and whimpering. Her tiny fingers encircled one of his and he felt once more the drain of all he was.

"_She will need you for some time._"

"And Eleanor?"

"_She will not recall when she heals. She must not know. Not yet. She'd want to hold her and she mustn't… not until she regains her strength. Not until the child is much older. This child will need you, or she will drain and kill her mother."_

"And her father?" Darius thought of Methos.

"_No… he would never remain silent! He could not keep the secret… he loves her and knows how much she has always wanted this. He would insist that she be told. Say nothing to him of the child at this time._"

"She must have a name." Darius thought for a moment. In the old Germanic tongue, a princess upon whose fate the world might rest was called Alis. He smiled as he caressed the tiny child. "You shall be Alisaunne," he whispered and felt a bond with her stronger than anything he'd ever felt.

He glanced at Eleanor and noted she was already starting to heal. He lay Alisaunne aside in a small basket and gathered the bloodied bedclothes. He remade the bed and arranged a washed Eleanor within it. "I will need to tell her something."

The voices were silent. Evidently he'd have to come up with his own tale. Darius washed the infant and wrapped her in a small cloth. Once more the child grasped his finger and seemed content as she pulled from him what she needed. Already she seemed slightly larger. He'd have to make arrangements.

Gently he carried her down the stairs and out of the gate. He knocked on the door of _Madame_ Lucerne. She was a poor widow and he had settled her here in this apartment, ostensibly to keep an eye on the place. "The owners," he'd told her years ago, "asked me to find a worthy woman to live here and make certain all goes well. You may rent the other apartment out to whomever you wish and keep the money as your pay."

The arrangement had worked well. _Madame_ was grateful for the place to live, and earnest and attentive to her new position. Elderly now… her children grown… she was half blind and in failing health.

"I need for you to care for this child until I can make other arrangements," Darius told her. "Just for a bit."

"The _bebe_ is so small _pere_, what has happened?"

Darius lied… for the first time in centuries… he lied. "Her mother has died giving birth. I need to see to arrangements. I will be back." He caressed the tiny form and noted she again grasped his finger. It was to be a familiar pattern for the next two years. Alisaunne would live and grow… but it must be to Darius she turned for life… or Eleanor would surely die.

Darius crossed back to the church grounds. He needed to get Eleanor some food. He was racing to the monastery refectory when he sensed another. He paused and turned. "Methos."

Methos grabbed him. "Where is she? I woke this morning and she was gone?"

Darius told his second lie. "I have not seen her. If I do… I will tell her you were looking for her." He pushed past and felt Methos' hand restrain him.

"Where would she go if not here? Why did she leave?"

Darius told his third lie. "I'm certain I do not know." He closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness. Each lie came easier than the one before.

Methos dropped his hand. "I don't know where to look for her? I don't even know where she lives… she's never shared that with me."

"I need to go my friend. I have a parishioner who needs assistance." That at least was the truth.

Methos nodded. In the darkness Darius could tell he looked disheveled and at his wits end. The old immortal ran hands through his short dark hair. "I have to find her."

Darius nodded. "I'm certain she'll turn up. You know how she is… She likes to be on her own. Perhaps someone needed help."

"I don't think she has her sword," Methos said.

Darius sighed. "She's fine, Methos. I'm certain she's fine. Go home and wait for her."

Methos nodded and left as Darius stared after him, biting his tongue. He wanted to tell him… but the Ancients were right. As soon as he knew… Methos would tell Eleanor. It was their child after all… a child born and not found. But that child would need far more than either of them could give her now. And she would be a danger to them. They would be vulnerable to other immortals if they tried to raise her. Darius sensed that even Methos' power had dimmed somewhat. He'd given Alisaunne life… as Eleanor had. It was Darius' task now to sustain that life.

And he would… no matter what. He resumed his trek to the refectory. He had much to do and many plans to make to insure that Alisaunne would grow into her destiny. But Eleanor's face would haunt him… and the guilt that adorned his chosen path would weigh on his soul until the day of his death.


	95. Part Four: In the Eye of the Storm, Chap...

****

Part Four: _In the Eye of the Storm_

__

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,  
How you suffered for you sanity. How you tried to set them free!  
They would not listen, they did not know how; perhaps they'll listen now.

from **_Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)_** by Don MacLean

****

Chapter 91

Paris, _Le Blues Bar_

Amy hung up the phone and looked across the office at Grace Chandel. "The ambulance is on its way."

Grace nodded. She'd had very little to say in the time since Kage… John Kirin had left. Amy mentally corrected his name in her mind. Although he was still filed under Kage in the Watcher Chronicles by Watchers who still wondered if he were truly reformed or simply executing a scam of enormous proportions upon mortals… Amy had realized he was truly transformed. And so did Grace.

Grace Chandel had been a midwife and later a doctor in her long immortal life, seeking always to find a way to ease the suffering of those around her… mortal or immortal. That she'd paid for her life by a series of attachments to men who could not fully support the life she chose… whether they were mortal or immortal… had been one of the crosses of her life, Amy knew. Finally she'd found someone… and now she'd had to let him go. She'd had to let him try to save the lives of others as she had often done, even if it meant his death.

Now Amy needed to focus on what Joe would want her to do. She'd called Burt's people and given them the transponder code for their GPS. They'd reported they had a fix and that Kirin had evidently been taken into the main Paris facility.

"A couple of us saw him enter. Your man walked in quietly." There was a clipped tone to Peter Ryan's voice. He and Phil Roberts had been close friends. They'd started working this gig because of loyalty to Burt… and because it was mainly surveillance. Right now… Peter was as angry as he'd ever been. But he was a professional. He'd do the job he was paid to do. Burt had wanted them to stay out of sight and wait for the immortals to be moved. They'd hang back… and depend on the transponder to help them locate the main facility. They hoped no one in the Watcher's group would check that particular code… Amy's code… for the next few hours.

"Any word from Burt?" Ryan asked.

"None… but he's likely moving fast."

"If he needs us… we'll drop everything here."

Amy had bitten her lip. Mentally she'd yelled… _Yes! Drop everything! Get to Liverpool! Save my family! _Aloud she'd only murmured her thanks.

Now she held Joe's fevered hand and sighed. What else was there? She'd called Joe's old Watcher buddies… the ones he'd played poker and _bocce_ ball with all these years. They were organizing their people… interviewing Watchers they knew to find out what they knew… and where they stood. Some were involved without knowing they were involved. Some were almost oblivious as to what was going on. And some… were in agreement with the new order. They had to be careful or hit squads would be visiting them. Word was out that some were already mobilized in the States… but then… that was the gun-toting Americans! This was France! Here they'd acquiesced to the wrong powers in World War II… here they would not let it happen again.

Everyone had indicated sympathy and concern for Joe, and promised to follow through on everything.

"I'll unlock the door," Grace said, rising and making her way to the entrance of the bar. She peered through the windows. She could see no one Watching… and there were passersby on the street. Surely they were safe! She unlocked the door but left the closed sign on. After all, it was early. No one would expect a bar to be open yet.

"Grace!" Amy called suddenly. Grace turned and rushed back into Joe's office.

The Watcher's eyes were open and he was gasping for breath. His face nearly purple, he shook Amy's hand away feebly.

"Be quiet Dad! Help's on the way! We're taking care of everything… just rest."

Grace checked his pulse. She didn't like any of the signs she was seeing… and she still had no idea what to do. At least they had the vials. A proper lab could analyze the serum… but would it be in time?

The bell over the front door jingled. Grace looked back and Amy quietly pulled a gun.

Into the office a tall young man with sandy hair walked tentatively. "Joe?"

Amy hid the weapon under her skirt.

The young man stopped and stared at the three. He'd evidently been crying. Tear tracks covered his smudged face.

Grace's eyes widened slightly. "Can we help you?"

"I need to talk to Joe,"

From the sofa, Joe coughed and reached out. His words were unintelligible.

The young man crossed the room and knelt down beside him. "She's hurt Joe… she needs an immortal and she needs one now. Please! Help us!"

Amy stared at the young man, "Who are you?"

The young man began sobbing. "I can't do it! I don't dare kill myself! What if I'm wrong? What if I don't come back? Joe, she needs someone!"

"My father cannot help you right now," Amy began. "We're waiting on an ambulance."

"Just tell me how to find one… Joe I can't sense them… I don't know who anyone is anymore." He clutched at Joe's arm.

Joe nodded and grimaced. "Grace… go."

The boy stared at Grace thoughtfully. His brows knotted as he evidently tried to think. Then his face brightened. "Grace… Grace Chandel. Eleanor needs you." His voice sounded oddly accented suddenly… and deeper than before. He shook his head and cried out.

Grace stared at him. She raised a hand to his shoulder and then cupped his chin. "Darius?" she whispered.

"No!" the boy shouted insistently. "I'm not him! I'm not him!" He grabbed his head. "Go away! This is your fault! You did this! You did this!" His voice trailed away.

Grace sat back. "I knew an Eleanor many years ago. She was one of Darius' students. I last saw her in Africa about ten years ago. She introduced me to John."

The boy nodded.

Outside the ambulance pulled up.

"Go with him then Grace. I'll go with Joe to the hospital." Amy reached for the vials. "I'll take care of it." She glanced at her father who was nodding slightly…

The attendants were wheeling a gurney in. Grace rose and stood aside while they took Joe's vitals. She gave them what she knew.

Beside her the boy pulled at her arm. "We have to go! She'll die!"

Grace nodded. She finished her report swiftly and stood aside while Joe was wheeled to the ambulance. Amy climbed in with him.

The doors shut and Grace understood clearly how torn Amy was in her movements. She was torn as well between being with John, helping Dawson and… she turned to stare at the young man. "Darius was my very good friend."

The boy nodded. He held out his hand and said in his own voice, "Come with me! Hurry!"

He pulled her along until reaching an alley which he ducked into and approached a sewer grate. Grace smiled. "I found Darius climbing out from a grate like that once."

The boy's lower lip trembled and he nodded. Pulling the grate off, he set it aside and lowered her down. Then he hung from the rim and pulled the grate back over the hole and dropped to the ground.

"Aren't they usually locked?" Grace said.

The boy nodded. "Yeah! I guess so. Ellie musta undone this one to keep an eye on Joe's bar."

He averted his eyes and turned into the darkness.

"Can you see where you are going?" she asked trying to find a firm surface to walk on.

The boy halted and shrugged. "I guess it's just one of those things I know without knowing. C'mon!" He led the way and Grace followed. She could hear him counting steps and passages in that clipped Germanic accent that reminded her of Darius. The priest had never explained what he was doing in the sewers that day… and he'd asked Grace to keep his secret… his eyes twinkling and a sheepish smile on his face. She'd kept it and told no one.

About half an hour later, the boy stopped and looked around. Grace could just barely see him in the dim sewer, lit by occasional patches of light that streamed in through the various grates. He looked around as if lost. His shoulders sagged and he appeared to be mumbling to himself. Then he straightened and took the left-hand passage… striding confidently along the soft soil heaped at the base of the stone walls.

Grace could here rats chittering in the dark and prayed that nothing untoward would happen down here… that they would leave this hellish place soon.

The boy approached an alcove and reached back for her. "We're here," he said simply.

"Where is here?"

"You'll see, c'mon." He pushed open a wall area and motioned her in. Then he shut it. Blackness was everywhere. "Watch your step," he said grasping Grace's hand and helping her up a long set of stone stairs evidently cut into one wall. At the top he backed her against the stone. "Don't move."

Grace heard what sounded like metal and stone rubbing and resisting movement. Then an opening in the darkness appeared. Through it, she saw daylight.

The boy gestured for her to go through.

She did so and gasped slightly. For a moment she felt as though she'd stepped out of the real world and into some sylvan glade that existed in a single moment of time. Grass grew on the earth, moss covered some of the rocks, and ivy grew up the three story stone wall that surrounded the glade on all four sides. Trees arched above them, reaching to the light. Through the branches Grace made out what looked like screening. Evidently this place was even hidden from above. In the center of the glade was a small spring surrounded by flat stones… where one might sit.

She turned to the boy. "What _is_ this place?"

He shrugged as he shut the stone entrance and locked it with a chock. "Some place Eleanor and Darius watched over."

He grabbed Grace's hand and pulled her to a set of narrow stone steps that ran up the wall. At the top was a wooden door that faced a small landing. He opened the door and showed her in.

The room was filled with bare shelves. A sleeping bag was rumpled in one corner and a stack of books and an old laptop computer sat on a plain wooden table.

"You live here?" she asked.

The boy paused and stared at her. He shook his head. Then he opened the wooden door to another room.

Inside the room, Grace could make out a figure on a narrow bed… Eleanor evidently.

She entered and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Help her," he said.

Grace felt the immortal's cool brow and noted her fluttering eyes… as if she were dreaming. The fingers of both hands moved desperately back and forth as if she were signing something. Her breathing was even. Grace felt Eleanor's pulse. It was strong and steady.

"I don't think anything's wrong," she said.

"But… she doesn't wake up! It's like last time!"

Grace sat back. "Last time?"

"With Darius! He managed to save her!"

Grace gazed deeply into the boy's blue eyes. She sighed. Darius and all he was had been lost to them almost twenty years ago. Over the centuries, immortals had theorized as to what happened to the quickenings of immortals who died a permanent death, when no other immortal was there to receive the quickening. She had heard many stories. Several suggested that sometimes… if a quickening was lost… it returned in the form of another immortal. This boy was less than twenty if she was any judge of his age. Could something of Darius have managed to return in the form of this boy? "Do you have a name?" she asked calmly.

"Derrick…" he shrugged. "It's the name I remembered when she found me." He gestured toward Eleanor… tears once more springing to his eyes. He caressed the side of her face then met Grace's. "Don't let her die." He took hold of one of Grace's hands and moved it to rest on Eleanor's abdomen.

Grace gasped… feeling momentarily as if some part of who she was, had been drawn away.

"She's always been so weak. She needs an immortal to survive."

Grace smiled and continued to rest her hand there. If it comforted the boy… she would comply. She remembered the first time she'd met Eleanor centuries ago… another immortal mid-wife calling herself Marie at the time. Grace had come to Paris early in her immortality, hoping to find a way to continue the life she'd known somehow… without the need for killing. Marie… Eleanor as she had learned much later when she'd heard Darius call her that… was the priest's student. She'd introduced them.

With their help… Grace had found the middle ground where she could be both healer and immortal. Her kills could be counted on one hand… but the children she'd helped bring into this world… and their descendants… numbered in the thousands… if not millions.

"Perhaps she'd like some of that fresh spring water," she suggested, smiling at Derrick… strange how even his name evoked memories of her old friend.

The boy knotted his brow and slowly nodded. "Immortals don't need it… but it couldn't hurt." He rushed out of the room. Grace could hear him rummage for a glass or a cup… and then she heard the door as he exited the rooms and returned to the glade.

Just then Eleanor gasped and opened her eyes. For a moment she seemed confused as to where she was… She glanced around with a satisfied smile on her face as if looking for someone. Grace knew that kind of smile. It was one a woman wore when thinking of the man she loved. Then Eleanor focused on Grace.

"Grace? What are you doing here?" She raised up on her elbows.

"Your young friend was afraid you were dying and came to fetch me." Swiftly she explained how the boy had come to Joe's place looking for an immortal and Grace had been there.

Eleanor shook her head. The secretive smile returned to her face. "I'm fine. We're immortal, Grace… we don't get sick."

Derrick re-entered the room with a jar of water. He brightened when he saw Eleanor. "I knew it! I knew she could help!" He knelt at her bedside and placed the jar of water on the old trunk.

Eleanor laughed as she lay back and reached to cup his chin. "I'm fine, Derrick. Whatever made you think I was dying?"

"He said something about last time… with Darius." Grace wondered if there had been something more intimate between Darius and Eleanor. She smiled. She'd never noted anything. But once Grace had attempted to kiss Darius… centuries ago… only for him to hold her away as he chuckled. He'd shaken his head and mumbled something about the choices he'd made for his life not including that. Grace had thought his calling was for a single lifetime… and had been surprised that he'd remained in it for all the time she'd known him. His gentleness and his humor had often been a warm bulwark against the mortal world.

It was to Darius that she had gone when her last mortal lover, Paul had been killed. After Duncan MacLeod had dealt with Paul's killer, her former immortal lover Carlos Sendaro, she'd kissed Darius once more as she'd left… some part of her wishing he would leave his life… and find love. Grace smiled. Perhaps love had always been here. It would certainly explain why the two of them had remained in Paris. She sighed thoughtfully, as she realized that something else seemed to have been between them. If they had been lovers… then surely he would never have remained here.

Eleanor was silent, still cupping Derrick's chin. "I think it's time for the truth Derrick. I need to know everything you remember."

The boy shrugged. "It's all fading. But I do remember when Alisaunne was born now."

"Alisaunne?" Grace asked. She sat back thoughtfully. Finally she managed to whisper… "You've had a child? You gave birth to a child?"

Eleanor nodded. "I have no memory of it." She sat up and crossed her arms. "Tell me everything, Derrick. I want all of the truth… Leave nothing out. Why did Darius steal her and tell me nothing about her? His letter only told me _what_ he did… it didn't give me his reasons."

The boy nodded and told her what he remembered, while Grace listened in wonder. When he'd finished his story, Grace simply stared.

Just then an explosion rocked the street. Grace stared out the window. Eleanor climbed from the bed… staggering a bit as if she truly were completely drained of strength. Derrick grabbed her and helped her to the window, then stood behind the two women.

Electricity arced about _St. Julien Le Pauvre_. A blue light and the smell of ozone permeated the air as the windows of the church shattered.

"Quickening," whispered Grace in horror. "A quickening on Holy Ground!" The floor beneath their feet began to tremble.


	96. Chapter 92

Chapter 92

Somewhere on the streets of Paris

They'd been running for some ten or fifteen minutes when Duncan felt Alisaunne move on her own and take in a gasp of air. She struggled on his shoulder and began to beat at him… snarling and screaming.

Duncan pulled her down and slammed her against a wall in the alley. "Hush!" he ordered as he held her arms away from her body against the stones of the wall.

Her eyes widened. She smiled and began to lick her lips slowly. "You want him dead… You think then I'll turn to you."

Duncan blanched. She was right! Some part of him still wanted her. He'd once considered sending Ian into jeopardy… but he'd conquered that desire. "You're wrong. I want him back as much as you do."

Alisaunne laughed as she shifted her hips and raised one leg to wrap around one of his. Her face inched forward and her lips brushed his.

"That's enough of that!" Amanda said sharply.

Alisaunne giggled and returned her attention to the Highlander. She attempted to once more close the gap between them by arching her back and rubbing her hips against his.

Duncan simply stared as her lips inched closer. He finally closed his eyes and shuddered.

"I said… that's enough!" Amanda fired her weapon into Alisaunne's side. The soft report through the silencer nevertheless sounded loud to Duncan's ears.

The girl's eyes widened momentarily in confusion and then closed as she slumped.

"Whenever you're through…" Amanda said in a huff, "we need to go."

Duncan nodded numbly and tossed his student over his shoulder once more. "That meant nothing, Amanda."

"No… It never does. Every single time I let my defenses down… your eye starts to wander. Here we are fleeing for our lives and you want to stop and make love to another woman." She stormed ahead… her hands waving in the air as she muttered under her breath.

"Amanda!" Duncan begged as he followed her.

Cory smirked as Duncan passed him. "It sure looked like that to me, too, Mac."

Duncan glared. "You stay out of this." He hurried to catch up with Amanda.

They heard sirens and ducked into the shadows of the alley. They'd been trying to stay off the main streets since Duncan was carrying the dead Alisaunne.

"We need a vehicle," he said. "We're running out of side streets and alleys."

Amanda rounded on him… her eyes blazing. "I know that! I just haven't seen one I can steal, yet!"

Duncan shifted Alisaunne to his other shoulder. "Let me explain, Amanda."

"Not here and not now, MacLeod." Amanda turned and gazed out onto the street. "There's a _Peugeot_ over there that might work. It would look innocuous." She handed her handgun to Cory with a smile. "Shoot her again if she wakes up." Amanda tossed her head and strolled onto the street confidently toward the _Peugeot_. She tried the driver's door and grinned when it opened. She waved at the others as they piled in. Cory climbed into the other bucket in the front while Duncan pushed Alisaunne's body into the small rear seat and climbed in.

"Where to?" asked Amanda as she hot-wired the car.

"Darius' church… _St. Julien Le Pauvre_," said Duncan.

Amanda shifted gears. "Why there? I thought you said Watchers were there according to Joe."

"We need to take the chance. Alisaunne and I both saw Ellie in that area and she'd told Joe she'd be there."

"So?"

Duncan sighed and brushed Alisaunne's tangled dark curls from her dead face. "Alisaunne said Ellie took her somewhere into the church… someplace hidden. If so… maybe we can find it."

Amanda hmmphhed! "Provided she doesn't kill us, seduce you and scream loud enough to bring the authorities when she wakes."

"Amanda that's not it. It's Nestor."

Amanda met his gaze in the rear view mirror. Her eyes widened.

"Who the hell is Nestor," Cory asked.

"Shut up, Cory!" Amanda and Duncan said together. Amanda applied the gas and drove swiftly through Paris.

This time… thankfully… Alisaunne took longer to come around.

Amanda had pulled up outside the church and parked the car… eyeing the church grounds. "I don't see anyone about," she said.

"Joe told me they were fairly obvious the day he was here," Duncan murmured and sighed. "Nothing ventured… nothing gained." He climbed out and pulled Alisaunne's body from the car… holding her in his arms as he hurriedly crossed the street and passed through the gate onto the church property.

Amanda gestured at Cory. "Come on!" and the two of them followed.

At the doors of the church… Duncan paused while Amanda opened them. The immortals entered the cool darkness of the church. Two parishioners who were apparently just leaving stared at them. "She needs sanctuary," Duncan muttered by way of explanation and brushed past them. He circled around searching for some place to put her, aware that Amanda was sweet-talking the two old women and ushering them out. Once they were alone… she picked up the great wooden bolt and barred the doors.

Duncan lay Alisaunne on the stone floor of one of side alcoves and sighed. With a start he saw the blackened stone on the floor and realized this was where Darius had died. Duncan ran one hand through the girl's hair and shook his head. "I don't think we'll ever know what his secret was." He rose and turned to Amanda and Cory. "Start searching."

"For what?" Cory asked.

"I don't know. An opening… a door… a secret passage… just search."

Cory walked off grumbling as he ran hands over the stones and pushed.

Amanda grabbed Duncan's arm. "You really think that it's Nestor?"

"She's been having dreams for some time. She says she hears his voice. But she's never been quite this bad before."

Amanda blanched. "Nick! Something must have happened to Nick! We need to contact Phillip on Niebos."

"Niebos?" Duncan glanced at her. "Oh… that's the name of Phillip's island?"

Amanda nodded.

In the alcove… Alisaunne began to stir. She rolled over and drew up her legs. One hand stretched out so that the back of it rested on the blackened stone.

At that moment Amanda gasped. "Look!"

Blue electricity began to crackle as it rose along the walls, surrounded the pillars and met in the high arched ceiling of the old church. It throbbed and crackled, as it seemed to become a whirlwind. Cory retreated from one of the walls and covered his ears. The sound of a thousand voices keening in horror filled the church.

The whirlwind descended like a tornado onto Alisaunne's body, lifting her into the air where the blue power surrounded her… flashing outward and then into her as it buffeted her still unconscious body. Bolts of red and green seemed to fuse with the overall blue power of the quickening. Then the explosion happened. Duncan, Amanda and Cory ducked down as the glass in the windows shattered and the floor began to heave. The flagstones began to buckle and a loud roar filled the church.

"What's happening?" Amanda yelled.

Duncan shook his head. "I don't know," he replied… yelling in return.

As suddenly as the maelstrom began… it ended. The power coalesced around Alisaunne, throbbed and then faded into her. He body softly floated back to the floor and all was silence as dust sprinkled from the rafters.

Duncan knelt beside her, aware of the peaceful expression on her face. Her eyes opened. They were as blue as the power had been and sparkled before fading to gray once more.

Slowly she looked around… lifted one hand into the air… gazed at it wonderingly… and then lifted the other. She clenched her fists and then spread her fingers. A beauteous smile of wonder crossed her face. She sat up and looked around.

"Alisaunne?" Duncan whispered.

She looked at him curiously, tilting her head as she stared at him.

Then she gazed around at the interior of the church. She smiled. Looking at Duncan she said. "We have to rescue Ian! He has to know! He needs to know."

With a sigh, Duncan gave thanks that she'd seemed to return to herself… that she was all right.

"Whoa!" Cory said suddenly and stepped to one side.

Duncan stared at the tall young man appearing from the shadows of the church. He walked slowly forward staring at Alisaunne. He crouched beside her and smiled.

"You're all right now."

Alisaunne nodded.

The young man rose.

"Derrick?" Duncan said.

He nodded. "Come on all of you. Ellie wants to see Alisaunne." He headed for the barred door.

"How did you get in here?"

The boy turned and shrugged. "There are lots of entrances."

Duncan pulled Alisaunne to her feet. She nodded her thanks and crossed the nave to help Derrick unbar the door.

"We need to get out of this area," Amanda whispered as she clutched Duncan's arm. "That explosion will bring others. We need to find a place to hide."

Duncan nodded. "Derrick, lead the way!"

They followed the young man out of the church and into the street where a crowd was gathering. Everyone seemed so concerned with the church building… that no one seemed to see any of them… or note their passing. They passed through the crowd as if invisible.

Derrick crossed the street and led them up about half a block and through a covered archway. At the back of the passage he called through an iron gate. Grace Chandel appeared and unlocked the gate… allowing them to enter a garden… a wild grove of trees and small plants hidden within the walls of the building.

The three new immortals gazed around and up open-mouthed.

"I know," Grace said. "It had that effect on me as well."

"Grace?" Duncan asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to help." She gestured toward a pale Ellie seated on the stones surrounding a spring of water that burbled merrily in the center of the grove.

Alisaunne approached her and knelt down, laying her head in Ellie's lap where the tiny immortal stroked her dark hair and leaned to kiss her.

"Ellie?" Duncan said. "What's going on?"

Ellie smiled at him and shrugged. "Faerie magic, I guess. The Ancients' combined quickening has found a new home."

Alisaunne raised her head and nodded with a sad smile. "I'm home… I'm complete. But… I have to find Ian."

Ellie nodded. "We will. I can find them now. Methos and I are so closely connected that I can sense him. I can follow to where he is."

Alisaunne shook her head. "Is Ian there?"

"He doesn't know… He's trapped within the dream. He sent me back to bring help." She looked up at Duncan and smiled, biting her lip. "He needs your help."

Duncan nodded. "I know."

"You two are also tied together by the double quickening. If he dies… I may die as well… and you will feel us go."

"No!" yelled Derrick, taking a step forward. "I won't let that happen."

"Then we are agreed," Eleanor said. "We need to lay our plans."

"We need to let Joe know," nodded Duncan. "He had some plans..."

"Joe? Joe Dawson?" Grace held her breath as Duncan nodded. "I think I need to tell you something about Joe," she said, aware that the other immortals silently waited.

------------------------------

**NOTE:**_ I'll be out of town for a few days. More when I return. --_elle


	97. Chapter 93

****

Chapter 93

Taranto, Italy, the Watcher Villa

Reagan Cole stared at the row of bodies lying on gurneys open-mouthed. She'd known immortals were here. She knew the Watchers were collecting them. She even knew Katya and a friend had been drugged but had escaped… but this was too much.

Beside her, Micah and Madrigal also stared.

"Hurry," Reagan finally said. "Start pulling out IV's. They should start coming around soon."

"All of them?" asked Madrigal as she started forward.

Reagan paused. None of the immortals should be left like this… but some were likely very, very dangerous. And they would not be happy. "Guard the doors, I'll identify them first," she said grimly… wondering if she would actually know any of them. She approached the first of the six gurneys and peered into the face of a young woman. "This one is okay!" she whispered and moved swiftly on, authorizing the removal of IV's until she reached the final two. Reagan gasped.

On one gurney lay a large man with coal-black hair; on the other lay a thin-faced woman with long red hair. Reagan shook her head. For a moment she considered using her sword, but the need for silence to cover their activities far outweighed her desire for vengeance… at least for the moment.

As Madrigal pulled the IV's of the other four, Reagan stood guard at the interior door while Micah kept an eye on their two prisoners.

"Stand away Madrigal!" Reagan said. "When they come out of it… they'll sense us and each other. They won't be happy."

The girl nodded and backed away.

One by one the immortals gasped and came to their senses. They lashed out their arms fearfully and then sat up… looking around in confusion.

"Where are we?" the young woman said, brushing her dark hair away from her exotic face.

"We're here to rescue you," Madrigal said carefully. "You were kidnapped and drugged."

"By my competitors?"

Just then the bearded man next to her revived. "What the…?" he said as he slowly rose to a sitting position. "I was signing autographs after my _bravura_ debut in **_La Scala_**! What happened?"

The next man groaned. He raised one hand to his hawk-like features and rubbed his eyes. "I don't feel well," he finally said. "Does anyone have an aspirin? I have the most atrocious headache!"

The fourth figure… a man with light brown hair sat up quickly and leaped from the gurney in a defensive position. Cautiously he looked around him. Eyeing Madrigal, he smirked, "And you are?"

"Your saviors," Reagan said from her position behind the four. "Short story… mortals kidnapped and drugged you. We're here to get you out."

The four looked around the room and at each other as well as their three rescuers. The young woman saw the IV pole next to the gurney she'd risen from and shuddered as she backed away. "What was in that stuff?"

Reagan stepped forward and removed one set of drug pouches from an IV pole. "I have no idea… but I intend to find out."

"And you are?" the young woman said petulantly.

"That my dear Claudia," began the bearded immortal, "is Reagan Cole."

"And that's supposed to mean something to me?" She tossed her dark curly hair and seemed about ready to stamp a foot.

The bearded man chuckled. "Appreciative and thankful of others, as always, my dear lady." He reached out and kissed the back of her left hand.

"Oh…" she said smiling, evidently charmed by his manners and seemingly oblivious of his sarcasm.

"You're Claudia Jardine," Madrigal said. "MacLeod brought us your CD to listen to once. He said he knew you."

"Duncan? You know Duncan?" Claudia turned with a superior smile, then asked curiously, "Which one?"

Micah snorted, evidently exasperated at the delay. "Does it matter? We have to get out of here, _pronto_!"

"Can somebody explain to me what's going on?" the immortal with the headache said. "I was in a helicopter crash… The medics said I died… but then I revived and didn't have a scratch on me."

The others looked at one another with a smirk. As one they said… "Newbie!"

"Wha…?"

"Later, my dear young man… do you have a name? I'm Antonio Medici… _tenore_ _supremo_!"

"Vincent Goins," the new immortal said allowing Medici to pull him up. "Don't you have a headache?"

"All in good time. Now, Reagan… if I recall your name correctly from that time in Milan… what would you have us do?"

Vincent looked around and shrank away from the sight of the last two immortals still drugged. "What about them?"

"When we leave… I want to be gone before they stir," Reagan snapped and pushed the others toward the interior door where they'd left the two orderlies.

"Why?"

"Later Vincent," Medici added with a grin.

The hawk-faced man looked down at his lack of attire. "Clothes?"

Micah grinned. "Want to strip these guys?"

"Swords?" he said next.

Reagan sighed. She looked around and saw nothing. "Sorry… we'll have to equip you later. Now let's go!"

"Well there are not enough clothes for all of us," Claudia pouted.

"Then share!" Reagan said. "Now get dressed! Madrigal… show them the way out. Micah… stay with her." Reagan was uncertain about the fourth man. While she'd known the first two… this one she didn't know. Vincent would evidently be no problem… but this man was likely dangerous.

When the four had managed to strip and pull on some of the clothes the two prisoners had been wearing, Madrigal and Micah led them to the open window where they began crawling out. Once she was certain they were out, Reagan faced the last two. One of the orderlies tried to say something through his gag… he was evidently terrified.

"I'll bet you are. Even I don't want to tangle with Kerwin Morris or Kineta. I'd hate to think how they will react upon regaining consciousness. But then again… no one deserves this!" Spitting the last words, Reagan pulled out the two IV's and rushed out of the room and through the window to the outside. As she raced across the grounds following the departing children and the others… she wondered how Phillip and Keith were doing.

-----

Phillip stood anxiously by the closed door of an office. Glancing behind him at Keith at work on the computer… downloading files onto his hand-held, Phillip mouthed, "How long?"

Keith raised a hand and spread his fingers… then returned to working the keyboard. Of the three offices they'd been through… this one looked like a main executive's office. If anything was here… any records… they would likely be here.

Keith had cracked the password-protected computer and begun a search and now was in the process of getting any files that looked like they might have something the immortals wanted.

In the hall were additional voices and sounds of movement as people apparently were beginning their day. Soon… Phillip knew… someone would enter this office. Phillip kept the trank gun ready. He still hoped to make their escape without anyone knowing they were here until they were gone.

He glanced at his watch. The guards he'd tranked earlier would begin stirring soon. He motioned to Keith to speed things along. Keith nodded. Finally he pulled the connector cable loose from the computer and nodded. Then he grinned and typed something swiftly on the keyboard and saved it… then turned it off as he and Phillip headed for the window and the grounds.

"What?" Phillip whispered.

"Just a virus," Keith said with a shrug. "One I developed years ago. It's fast and it will lock up any computers on this network when this one is booted."

Phillip chuckled lowly. "Good thought!" They hugged the wall until they reached the gate and slipped through it… then raced into the cover of the surrounding brush where they found the others.

"Four of you!" Phillip said. "Good! We need new recruits!"

"Look I want some answers!" one man said.

"In time. First… we need to get out of here before they miss you."

"We won't have long. I imagine Kerwin Morris will be tearing people apart momentarily.

"Morris?" Phillip said and glanced back. "Whew! I see why you left him behind. Anyone else?" he asked Reagan as they brought up the rear of the group.

Reagan hesitated. "Kineta."

Phillip paused. He looked back and his hands clenched. "Now that's a name I've not heard in a few centuries… and an immortal I wouldn't mind challenging."

"Get in line," spat Reagan.

Phillip nodded. "We'll talk later."

When they reached the van… all nine piled in as Phillip drove off. The rescued had many questions… all of which, Phillip assured them, he and Reagan would answer to the best of their ability as soon as they were safe. He didn't dare speed too fast. He didn't want to garner attention. The van had been muddied up and dented… so that it looked old and slow. But beneath the hood… was an engine with a lot of power.

-----

An hour later… Phillip pulled the van into a barn where they climbed out. Micah and Keith pulled the cover from another van… this one white and in mint condition.

"We'll hit the main highway with this," Phillip said as he rummaged in the back for additional pieces of clothing and tossed them to the rescued immortals. "Get dressed. These may or may not fit… the clothes were our spares… but you people need them more. We didn't know if we'd find anyone… nor that they'd need clothes"

"And swords," the thin hawk-faced man who'd introduced himself as Robert Caudill said.

Phillip nodded. "I have some spares."

Caudill smiled grimly. "Good. Being unarmed in the company of immortals I don't know is unnerving."

"Immortals? What's he talking about and do you have anything for this godawful headache?" Vincent added.

Phillip raised his eyebrows and nodded as Reagan, Micah and Madrigal mouthed, "Newbie!" silently. "Perhaps you might take him in hand Antonio? You know… explain things."

The tenor sniffed diffidently, but nodded with a smile. He settled next to Vincent on the floor in the back of the van and was soon waxing poetic about life as an immortal.

Caudill snorted during the recitation. He still didn't have a sword… and he wanted one very badly. In fact… he wanted to kill someone… and he didn't care whom.

Keith was in the passenger seat next to Phillip. Reagan had remained in the cargo area to keep an eye on the others. She'd never been around this many immortals at one time… and she was growing increasingly apprehensive. Claudia and Antonio she either knew or knew by reputation… as both were musicians in the public eye… Vincent was too new to be a threat… but Caudill… him she was not certain about.

Even the children were keeping their distance. The four of them huddled together and watched everyone with cautious eyes.

Keith yelped. "I think I've got this one open. Operation Immortal!"

"What's it say?" Phillip asked as he pulled onto the highway entrance ramp and sped up.

Let's see… It's a study of the physical nature of immortals. According to autopsy and biopsy reports… they…" he grinned, "we… are one hundred percent human. The conclusion of the report indicates that whatever makes us immortal… does not lie in the physical… and…" His voice trailed off and he was silent.

"What?" Phillip insisted.

Keith looked at him. "And that physically there is no reason mortals cannot become immortal."

Phillip shook his head. "That makes no sense. Mortals are different!"

"Evidently not physically. There are even DNA results here."

"I have a really bad feeling about all of this. When we stop… I want to contact MacLeod and Katya and the others. They need to know what is going on."

"Phillip," Keith added. "They want to kill us and take our place." He tapped the hand-held. "These Watchers want to _be_ immortal."

"I don't think there is a way for that to happen… but it explains so much as to why our people are being killed and kidnapped."

"Yeah… that must have been what I saw in Geneva."

"What?"

"One of us… he took a quickening and then before he could revive… they shot him. His friends showed up in Geneva sometime later looking for him. An immortal woman and a guy a little bit younger than me," Keith shrugged. "He wasn't immortal."

Phillip nodded. "Were they captured, too?"

"Naw… I rode with Ellie and Derrick for a while, then left them and went back to Geneva for my stuff. That's where the Watchers almost got me."

Phillip nearly slammed on the brakes. His face paled. "Ellie? Derrick? You've seen them?"

"Yeah… friends of yours?"

Phillip nodded. He appeared shaken. "Were they all right?"

"Ahh… the kid had a bandage on one arm and looked like he was running a fever… Ellie…" Keith shook his head. "There was something going on with her. She felt like a thunderstorm on a summer day. I feared for my life. That's why I left them."

"Did they say where they were headed?"

"Paris, I think… at least that was the general direction they were headed."

Phillip gripped the wheel tightly. MacLeod had mentioned something in a recent email about Methos being missing and that he was concerned. Phillip had not been. After all… Methos, Eleanor, and the boy had been missing for eight years.

Now, Phillip realized that Methos was likely a prisoner of the Watchers. Not only that… but Eleanor might have reclaimed her darkness in her fury. And Derrick? Phillip bit his lip. Not immortal… hurt… fever? Was it his time? He couldn't be more than eighteen! It was too soon! Phillip glanced in the rear view mirror at the child immortals. Again he thought… _It's too soon! Derrick still needs to grow older._ Eighteen… while physically sufficient… could be a problem for an immortal. Derrick needed at least another decade if not more before he'd be strong enough to survive on his own.

When he passed a roadsign indicating how many kilometers to Paris, and which of the highways to take… Phillip took that one.

"I thought we were going to Rome?" Reagan said, thinking about Walter Green.

"Paris," Phillip spat. "We have to go to Paris."

"Why?"

Phillip glared at the road ahead. "This is bigger and far more dangerous than I thought."

Reagan sat back… still curious… but she'd wait. She could tell the Swordmaster was in no mood to talk. What's more, the expressions on the children's faces told her the same thing.


	98. Chapter 94

_My apologies. The document manager was off-line yesterday, preventing me from loading a new chapter._ --elle

**-----------------------------------------**

**Chapter 94**

**Athens**

Denara curled in the overstuffed leather armchair in the magistrate's office, hugging her stuffed bunny. Her short blade was still hidden deep within the animal… but she didn't think she needed it right now.

"Please," she lisped… using her most correct Greek, "He's only frightened and confused. If you let me talk to him… I can calm him down."

The magistrate eyed her as he shook his head. "My dear child… he's currently under sedation in a holding cell. He attacked several of my men with a bladed weapon. He has much to answer for."

"Did anyone die?"

The magistrate shook his head and then ahhed with a smile as a severely dressed young woman in a business suit entered.

"Diana… I appreciate your coming down here." He pointed at Denara with a smile. "This is the child."

"Are you Denara?" the woman asked pleasantly.

Denara clutched her rabbit and nodded. _How did they know her name?_

"Well your parents are waiting for you. They've been concerned ever since you were kidnapped. I'll be taking you to them as soon as we've had a medical team check you over."

"_No!_ I have no parents!"

The magistrate laughed. "Everyone has parents! Be glad that you will be returned to them."

Denara narrowed her eyes. "What I meant was, my parents are dead. Ursa is my guardian," she said carefully, fingering the rabbit's back seam. These were mortals… but she didn't trust them.

"This Ursa is a madman… He stole you from your parents," Diana said kindly. "You are likely too young to remember what happened." She smiled warmly and reached to pat the four year old's head.

Denara allowed it, but she glared. Ursa's little adventure had evidently garnered the attention of the very people they were attempting to hide from. Now, the only way Denara might help… might rescue them both… was to be what she appeared to be… a child. And she hated being a child… she hated the way people treated her… as though she were too young and too small to understand what was happening. Perhaps she could use that. Curling up in the chair she seemed to shrink into the upholstery and just stare with a wide-eyed innocence she did not, in fact possess. She enclosed the rabbit in her small arms protectively.

"I want to see him," she finally lisped.

"Absolutely not!" the magistrate exclaimed.

"Please! He listens to me!" Denara begged. "I can calm him down so that he doesn't hurt anyone else."

Diana tilted her head. "Perhaps it would help, Alexandros."

The magistrate settled back in his chair. Even now he could hear commotion in the holding cell. The big man had awakened and evidently was shaking the bars while roaring loudly. If the child could calm him down… perhaps he _should _allow it… even though his superiors had said "No!"

"Very well," he nodded, "but only if I am there to supervise."

The woman nodded. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

Denara sighed with relief and wondered if either of these people spoke French. Ursa tended to use a _patois_ of French, English, Latin and German. Would these mortals understand what she would tell him? Rising to her feet by scooting from the big chair… Denara allowed Diana to take her hand while Alexandros led the way.

As soon as he saw her… Ursa paused in his tirade. He knelt by the bars and sadly held out one hand.

"_Ma cher_, Ursa must be freed. Ursa must go to Nick!" Ursa's expression was filled with immense sadness.

Denara attempted to come close and reached out one small hand… but she was held back. Quietly she began to speak. "Ursa… you need to be quiet and not hurt anyone," Denara met his gaze. "We will be free… but it may take time. Promise me you will not hurt anyone else… unless they are hurting me."

"These not hurt you?"

Denara glanced up. "Not yet… but people claiming to be my parents are coming. I will need you then. Wait for the right moment and then come for me."

Ursa nodded and quietly settled back on his heels.

"What did you say to him?" Diana asked.

"Just to be quiet and not hurt anyone," Denara said with a small smile. She hated this role… but she'd done it before… she could do it again.

"Sounded a bit like French and English," Alexandros said scratching his head. "And something else…" He cleared his throat and motioned to one of his officers. "Keep and eye on him. We will likely transfer him to a better facility soon."

Denara smiled and winked at Ursa, hoping he understood.

He nodded once more as he settled more comfortably on the floor of the cell… calm and patient. Then he lifted his voice and began to sing the old Gregorian chants. The music echoed and reverberated against the stone wall at the back of the holding cell… and for a moment seemed to transfix everyone who could hear it.

"Beautiful…" Diana breathed out. "Simply beautiful."

Alexandros nodded. This man was definitely a puzzle. He glanced down at the precocious child. She definitely seemed to be the brighter of the two… and he felt there was more going on here than what he'd been told. He gestured back to the office. "Let's get her on the way to hospital to be checked out. Her parents are likely anxious to see her."

Diana nodded and clasped Denara's hand as she led her away.

Denara cast one eye back at Ursa, whose eyes were closed as he sang. "Please come for me when you can…" she prayed silently, hoping that somehow he understood. She was also concerned about his need to see Nick. Had something happened? Was Ursa somehow aware of their dark-quickened companion? Had Nestor found a way out? She had no way of knowing.

-----

****

Niebos

At dawn, Valeraine had rubbed her bleary eyes and sighed deeply. Nick had not slept… so neither had she. He'd thrashed in the restraints most of the night and moaned unintelligibly. By dawn he'd quieted… as if waiting for something.

Valeraine did not like the leer on Nick's face. He seemed to be far away… and focused on something only he could see and hear. Occasionally… a twisted chuckle issued forth and he'd writhe up and down suggestively. Then breathe out in a contented sigh.

Valeraine drew her knees up and leaned her head on them as she ran fingers through her blonde hair. Most of it was loose from the braids. She knew she looked awful.

Madame Kouris would likely be in here soon with the breakfast tray. Valeraine could already smell food aromas and here the soft clatter from the kitchen. The girl had possessed little appetite recently, and _Madame_ was continually clucking over her and urging her to take a shower, a walk, or anything that would get her out of this room. _Madame_ would watch.

Valeraine shook her head tiredly. It was so tempting to think about those things… and about true sleep. Sleep that would allow her to sink into oblivion and forget Nick's obvious degeneration. But she didn't dare chance it.

All Nestor would need was a moment. And in that moment… he'd find a way.

The door opened as Elena Kouris entered. On the tray was a steaming bowl of thin porridge for Nick and some soft bread. For Valeraine she'd prepared scrambled eggs and crisp bacon. A handful of fresh grapes lay to one side.

"Good morning, child. How is our patient today?"

"He's had a rough night, _Madame_." Valeraine watched as Elena set the tray on the table.

The old woman straightened and clasped her hands together as she looked at Nick. "He seems calm now. Perhaps this would be a good time for you to take a small break."

Shaking her head, Valeraine picked up the bread and leaned close to Nick. She tore the bread into small pieces and offered it to him.

Nick snapped at the bread and smacked his lips as he gummed it. He was evidently hungry this morning. Valeraine leaned back and grasped some grapes. She peeled them and fed them to Nick one at a time… and then offered him some juice.

"You should eat, too," _Madame_ said softly. "Before it gets cold."

Valeraine nodded. "I will _Madame_. But Nick first."

Elena shook her head and stood at the foot of the bed. "This is too much for you. You really need to rest and eat… or you will exhaust yourself. What will happen then?"

Valeraine hesitated. She was already so tired that it was an effort to keep her eyes open. Her mind was already having difficulty thinking things through. She sat back.

"Let me finish feeding him, _Madame_. Then… if he's still quiet… I will."

Elena Kouris nodded relieved. "I will watch over him as if he were one of my own."

Valeraine continued to feed Nick, aware that by his expression… he was evidently planning something.

Once she finished feeding him… and he remained quiet… Valeraine gobbled her own cooling breakfast… aware that she was hungrier than she'd been in days. Perhaps in just accepting that she needed to take a break… she'd sloughed off all the tension that had kept her stomach in knots.

She warned _Madame_ that no matter what… not to take the restraints off, and assured that the old woman understood to call for her if she noticed any change in Nick… Valeraine left for a bath.

Within the warm water she stretched out and allowed the warmth to leach from her all the tension of the past few days. At _Ste. Genevieve_… she could always trade off a bit with Ursa or even with Luke. But Ursa was gone… and Luke was dead.

Valeraine found herself crying. She slowly sank below the water and let it flow over even her face. When she felt calm… she floated upward and opened her eyes. While Luke had never meant as much to her as the dead Marie-France… she had been fond of the young immortal… the old woman who'd had a long mortal life before joining them.

Idly she wondered if Phillip had managed to find the other children. She'd had no word from him. But then he'd told her it might be some time. The Greek immortal had been worried to leave only Valeraine here to watch Nick. He knew she'd needed help… but there was no one else. If Ursa remained here… the Watchers would come once more.

And in the outer world… Phillip had said Ursa would need Denara. So Valeraine was alone. She closed her eyes… sleep beckoned… and she no longer had the strength or the will to remain awake.

Was it only moments then when she heard a commotion? The bath water was cold. Valeraine leaped from the tub and grabbed a towel to wrap about her. Hurriedly she headed to Nick's room.

Madame Kouris was leaning over Nick trying to calm him. He was lurching about attempting to get free. He strained against the restraints. One gave way and Nick's palm rose swiftly to pull the old woman down so that he could tear at her throat with his mouth. Even without teeth… he closed his mouth on her, bit hard and tore.

Valeraine grabbed up a knife and swiftly threw it so that it soon perched between Nick's sightless eyes. He collapsed back… but almost immediately seemed to revive… drawing in a great breath. He'd released _Madame_ and reached with his free arm to maneuver the knife out somehow.

In the meantime, Valeraine pulled _Madame_ away and grabbed something to help stem the tide of blood flowing from the old woman's throat. Behind her she heard Nestor's cackle and turned.

With the knife rammed through his palm… the immortal had sliced through the remaining restraints and had climbed out of the bed. Even now he was lurching toward the door.

Valeraine pulled her small blade from where it lay beneath her chair and rammed it into Nick's back again and again.

Nick staggered and managed to pull away. He roared at her and fell towards her… wrapping his arm about her as he plunged his knife into her.

Valeraine fought the darkness closing in. She felt the knife being pulled out and then felt it pressed against her throat.

As she succumbed to the darkness… she heard Nestor's distinctive cackle.

-----

Valeraine woke and managed to cough. Her throat hurt. Raising a hand to it… she felt a bandage. Of course… their throats did not heal quickly.

"Lie still," a voice said.

Valeraine opened her eyes. She was in a bed and the village doctor was leaning over her. "You've had a nasty experience."

Valeraine tried to speak, fearful of what had happened to _Madame_ and to Nick. No words came out.

"Rest easy. Niko heard the fight and shot that man in the back. His body is in the morgue. You were lucky."

Valeraine shook her head. They had to be told! She had to tell them… but there was too much damage. Nestor's stroke had severed her vocal chords. They'd heal in time… at least she hoped so. Impatiently she slammed her hands on the covers and then made a writing sign… asking for pen and paper. They had to be warned that a monster was loose on the island.

The doctor patted her hand. "Later… now you need to rest." He turned toward his bag and selected a vial and a syringe. Expertly he began to fill the syringe and then he tapped it to remove the air. He smiled at her as she shook her head and tried to get him to understand.

She felt the needle pierce her arm and the cold fluid creep in and up her veins. Still she fought to be understood… but all too soon the world wavered before her eyes and the voice of the doctor faded. She felt herself taking a great breath and then breathed out… relaxing into the welcome embrace of oblivion.


	99. Chapter 95

****

Chapter 95

Mexico

From the heights above a _hacienda_, Jeremy, Matt, and Katya observed the increased movement and security.

"Evidently our last little outing has been reported." Matt lowered his binoculars. Impatiently he tapped one finger against them. Behind him he knew Amber and Jade were keeping watch. He glanced at Katya morosely. Matt shook his head.

Katya's jaw worked in consternation. She turned around and lay back against the rock they were hiding behind. She hissed.

Jeremy looked at her and then at Matt. "By coming for us… I take it they are now ready to fight back."

Matt nodded. Surprise had been their greatest ally. He was uncertain as to what they needed to do now.

At the sound of a helicopter… Matt motioned for them get under the sparse desert scrub. Headfirst he dived for the sand and prayed that they hadn't been seen.

Early this morning, Katya had fired an email report to the other immortals that she was in contact with. But there had been nothing in her box. They were still in the dark as to how the others were doing. "If it's like us… they may have met resistance and are either on the run as we are… or…" her voice had trailed away.

Matt had nodded in understanding. They were on their own. They could neither look to others for assistance… nor dare to hope other groups had been as successful.

"This is a big place," Jeremy murmured as he brushed sand out of his hair. The helicopter had flown by and landed at the compound.

"It was a drug lord's place about twenty years ago. Steel-enforced walls… deep bunkers. Lots of weapons."

"And you know this how?" smirked Matt.

Katya blushed. "Well… I had an occasion to visit the place once."

"Can you draw a map?"

Katya stared at the ground soberly and then picked up a stick and began drawing lines in the sand. She sighed. "I only saw some of it."

"You forget… you now have two very experienced thieves with you. You let me know what we're up against…" Jeremy smiled. "And Jade and I will figure out a plan to get us in."

"It's not getting in this time that worries me," Matt grumbled. "It's getting out."

"Then what do we? Head to the next one?" Katya said with a defeated tone.

Matt shook his head. "They're likely all on alert right now. No… we need to do this carefully… one facility at a time. These people cannot be everywhere… nor are they immortal. When they die… they stay dead."

Katya nodded. "I need some paper… the sand won't cut it." She scrambled back to their packs.

Jeremy leaned closely to Matt and whispered, "I've always disliked _killing_ mortals… is there any other way?"

Matt looked at the thief for a long time. "I've always worked with mortal authority… law enforcement. I've always felt the same. But you saw how it was getting out of there back in California… do you suppose they would have listened to _anything_ we had to say."

Jeremy thoughtfully looked down at Katya, Amber and Jade… especially at Jade. He'd heard enough about what Katya and Amber had been through… what men had done to them while they were unconscious… that he had to assume the same had occurred with Jade. Inside he nursed anger at such behavior. Even though Jade had no memory of anything being done to her… nor did she evidence any sort of emotional trauma… Jeremy still found anger growing in his soul. "They had no right to interfere in our lives. We have enough problems."

Matt nodded and gazed down at the three women. If they lost this battle… he could only imagine what further assaults would be perpetrated on the women… and what likely lay in store for all of them. Whoever these Watchers were… even though Amber seemed to believe that not all of them were like this… they were enemies of the immortals. "No… they didn't," Matt murmured in reply to Jeremy's statement.

An hour later, Jade and Jeremy finished asking Katya questions about her crudely drawn map and were discussing options based on what equipment they did have.

Matt continued to observe the patterns of movement at the compound. Amber crouched beside him and offered a canteen of water and a Power Bar. She looked at him intently.

"What?" Matt said as he took the canteen for a long drink of water. He grimaced at the warm metallic taste.

"We canna go down there."

Matt lowered the canteen. He sighed. Looking back at the compound below and the numbers of men moving about the compound and checking positions, he couldn't have agreed more. "What do you suggest?" Matt smiled at the young immortal.

Amber shook her head. "I don't know. I just know that we were lucky the last time. If we push this… we'll die… or worse." She rubbed her arms and shuddered. Matt had taken notice that her Irish lilt was more pronounced.

"And those of us likely being held down there?" Matt asked. "What about them?"

"If we are dead… we canna help them." Amber insisted taking back the canteen and handing him the Power Bar. "I'll go along with and support whatever ya decide… I just wanted ya to know what I was thinkin'."

She rose and crept back down the slope. Matt opened the wrapper and bit into the high-energy food. He chewed and swallowed thoughtfully. Then he turned to gaze through the binoculars once more. Never had the mantle of responsibility sat so hard on him. He'd always lived a moral life. He'd always tried to obey the laws of mortals when he could… within the scope of the Game in which he'd found himself centuries ago. He'd refused to become as many became… those who preyed upon the mortals around them. He'd also tried to challenge only immortals who were evil… or who consistently killed mortals in their quest to be "the one"! This entire episode was unlike anything he'd ever done.

He'd worked with OSS and Special Forces during World War II… attempting to end the kinds of abuses that these Watchers were propagating on immortals. He'd been witness to the camps… the horrible death camps where Nazi's had used and killed prisoners from many walks of life. He'd seen those who survived emerge in bewilderment and he'd understood how long it would take them to recover. Immortals were blessed with strong constitutions… even so… what he'd seen so far and heard so far… frightened him to his very core. These Watchers did not regard Matt or the other immortals as people… they were things. It had been the same in World War II.

"Never again," Matt whispered under his breath. To do less than to try was to turn his back on what was going on. But Amber was right. This place would be their death if they weren't very, very careful. They needed to be creative!

He glanced down at Jade and Jeremy arguing quietly. The couple seemed to feel his gaze and looked at him soberly. Even they evidently recognized the problem. What they needed, Matt thought, was the U.S. Army.

At that Matt smiled. He'd had a thought… a very dangerous thought. He needed to think this through before bringing it up.

-----

As the sun rose toward noon, Matt gathered the others in the shade of a rock ledge. The sun beat brightly down on them from a clear blue sky. Small rodents moved through the nearby stand of _saguaro _cactus. Once he had their undivided attention… he told them what he had in mind.

"We need help. This facility is too heavily manned and armed for us to attack."

The others nodded their agreement.

"Katya… you said a drug lord had this place at one time… right?"

Katya nodded.

"Then… I need to contact DEA and other authorities. I'm still a government agent. I still have contacts. I still have my credentials."

"Matt… aren't you risking being captured?" Jade insisted. "We have no way of knowing how widespread this group is… nor how deeply they may be inserted into the governments."

Matt nodded. "But it's the only way." His southern drawl that had been fading in conversation had returned… as if he were re-donning the Matt McCormick of the FBI persona he'd used for the last few years.

"How will you convince authorities to attack this place immediately with Mexican permission instead of waiting and watching?" Katya wanted to know.

"I'll tell them US citizens are being held there… possibly being tortured."

"And if they find no one there?"

Matt was silent. "We need to be certain that someone _is_ being held there." He was silent… letting the full effect of his words settle on them.

Amber closed her eyes and shivered. Jade looked off into the distance, while Jeremy clasped her hand, raising it to his mouth to kiss it gently.

Katya snapped angrily, "Not me! There is no way I willingly go back into _that_ again quietly!"

Matt remained quietly studying all of them. Finally he sighed. "I'd do it… but _I_ have to be the one to contact authorities. Jade and Jeremy are known thieves. You and Amber are likely on a most wanted poster for the killings in St. Louis. No one would listen to any of you. I know people. I can cut through some of the red tape and get the ball rolling."

Apparently the others agreed on that part of the plan, at least. The problem lay in just which one of them would be the sacrifice.

"They'd likely kill Amber or me if one of us just walked up to the gate." Katya finally said. "And by kill… I mean heads. After all… they're likely on the alert against one of us just walking up like last time. That would bring a search party."

"Then it'll have to be me," Jeremy said with a sigh. Jade leaned into him, shaking her head.

"Let's not be hasty about this," Matt said. "I still have to get to Mexico City… and make my report. That may take all day. And then likely another day to get things moving. I don't want any of you in there unless and until I'm successful. Is that clear?"

Amber drew her knees up and lay one side of her face on them as she absently drew lines in the sand. "_Oh Connor_," she thought. "_What should we do? What should we do?_"

-----

**__**

The Coast of Ireland, September 1920

The cool salt air blowing off the ocean streamed about Kathleen Amber Conroy as she stood on the cliffs. Her light colored hair, like spun ambergris tangled in the wind, and the hem of her tailored skirt whipped about her legs.

The salt spray, which flung into the air about her, helped to hide the salt tears falling from her eyes.

Behind her she felt Connor. He approached and placed his coat about her shoulders. "You might not die of a cold…" he laughed in that way he had. "But you might be damned uncomfortable for a while."

Amber shook her head and shook his hands from her shoulders, but she grasped the coat and drew it around her.

"It's all so wrong, Connor. All this killin'!"

"Aye, lass. It is that," he said agreed sadly.

Kathleen brushed hair and tears from her face, then turned to face him. "They have only a single life… why do they waste it? Is war and violence the fate of all mankind? Is it only us who have to kill and be killed… or is it them as well?"

Connor sighed as he shook his head. "I died in battle Katie, ya know that. My clan fought against the Frasers for land and superiority and some slight that after nearly four hundred years… I canna recall."

Kathleen nodded.

"Men fight and kill because they want something or they need to defend their homes from someone who wants what they have. These troubles are the same."

Kathleen had come to Ireland, to her mortal parents' mother country, for the first time in her long life a few years ago… and had witnessed the escalating scale of violence, which had resulted in the recent riots. While death was very much a part of her life… she'd taken three heads in the last hundred and thirty years… she was horrified by the continuing wars that plagued mankind. To her, it was all such a waste. She understood protecting one's home and family against intruders… it was the intruders… the invaders she failed to understand.

"They want something, lass," Connor repeated. "All of them want something… something the others possess. It's all about power… and about having it all."

-----

Amber's head snapped up. "Power! Something we have… something they want."

"What's that?" asked Katya.

Amber smiled. "Violence against others is the result of desire for what the other has. We kill one another for the power and knowledge of the quickening."

The others nodded a bit guiltily. One of the facets of immortality that kept them… for the most part… solitary creatures… was the game. Even among this group flittered the unspoken fear that they might have to face off against one another someday.

"What do we have that they want?"

Matt leaned back. "Immortality," he whispered.

Katya laughed. "They can't become us."

Jade bit her lip. "They want us… they keep us alive… they want to know what makes us immortal."

Jeremy nodded. "We were being studied… not killed."

A lone hawk glided on the shimmering currents of rising hot air and screeched in the silence before diving to the earth… its claws extended. It rose once more… its prey struggling in those claws. The imagery was not lost on the immortals. They were the prey… they would eventually be consumed and destroyed by the Watchers once they were of no further use or study.

"We have to become the predator," said Katya. "We have to turn the tables."

"But we have to be certain," Amber added, "That we dinna precipitate a wider conflict which causes them to begin killin' our people that they already hold."

Facing a lone enemy in a battle to the death was one thing… letting mortals kill large numbers of them so that quickenings were lost… would only bring about the end of the game that much sooner. And with the end of the game… their probable deaths.

"I don't know about any of you," Matt added grimly, "but I'm not ready to die… or to face the end. I still hope to see out a few more centuries, at least. To that end…" he grinned, "the more of us there are… the longer we survive."

"And the less chance there is that we will have to face one another," added Katya with a nod. She smiled at last… a warm smile, and reached out her hands toward Matt and Jade. They took them… and Jeremy… still holding on to Jade with one hand reached for Amber's with his other. Matt laughed and held her other hand. They were truly united at last. Somehow, they would work together to find a way to stop this madness and save whoever else was held here.

Amber thought just maybe… they might survive this after all.


	100. Chapter 96

****

Chapter 96

Paris, Watcher Headquarters

John had not seen where these Watchers were taking him. He'd not expected to. His calm acceptance of his captivity seemed to fluster a few of them. They'd secured his wrists tightly with a nylon tie that cut into his wrists. Even with his greater strength and power… if he pulled too hard… the narrow nylon would do some damage. John had not fought.

He'd sat quietly on the bench in the rear of the van as it careened through Paris. Across from him… two Watchers sat holding guns on him. A third was nearby with a sword. The two in the front seat were also armed.

John "Kage" Kirin was well and truly a prisoner.

When the van paused at a gate, he knew they were nearly there… or at least on the first stop. This was the one Dawson and his daughter had known of… this was where she worked. This was likely where he'd be held for a while. Amy had told him that she thought the immortals were being moved on.

"With the transponder signal, Burt's task force can follow where you go when and if they move you." Unsaid in her remarks was the possibility that Mischkov might have warned the Watchers and that John was walking into a deadly trap.

He'd accepted that. He'd accepted that he'd likely die. But if by his choice others could be found and saved… Grace would be safe… then it was worth it. "_I atone for my past_," he thought. This was the final movement in his journey toward redemption. "_My life for theirs._"

The van moved forward and came to a stop a minute later. The driver turned off the ignition and the rear doors opened. Additional armed men stood ready at outside.

"_All this for him?_"

He was motioned out and climbed into the light. He stood straight in the morning light and drew a deep breath of the spring air. As before, his smile and utter acceptance of his captivity caused a few to mutter. Almost apologetically, he was pushed toward the main entrance of the building.

Once inside, he passed a number of people who stared at him with confusion. It was as Amy had said… many did not know what was going on. Around him he heard them murmur.

As elevator doors opened, he stepped quietly aboard and stood against the car's rear wall while five of his guards… weapons at the ready… followed him in. The elevator went down until it at last opened on a long hallway.

"This way," said one of his guards. John walked in the direction he was told. Double doors opened and he entered a laboratory area. He felt an immortal presence and swept his gaze about the room. Against a rear wall were three gurneys… two of them occupied by drugged immortals. John took in their unconscious state and the IV poles dispensing oblivion.

He turned with a smile to the white-coated individual, apparently in charge. "_Bon matin_… good morning."

The man stuffed his hands deeply in his pockets and looked askance. Evidently no immortal had ever been brought here other than unconscious.

"Remove his restraints," he ordered as one guard stepped forward with clippers. The others pointed their weapons at him.

"I assure you…" John said holding out his hands. "The weapons are unnecessary. I will offer no resistance."

The restraints were clipped and he dropped his hands.

"I need for you to strip then," the doctor, if that is what he was, said quietly.

John nodded and removed his jacket. He began to unbutton his shirt and slipped it off. Both were grabbed by a guard and searched thoroughly.

John looked around. "I assume you mean everything?" At the curt nod, he kicked off his shoes and undid his trousers and pushed them down. He stepped from them. For a moment he hesitated, then removed his undershirt, briefs and socks. The air in this place was cold… an air conditioner was evidently cranked up. The hairs on his bare skin stood up as he reacted to the cold.

"Spread your arms and legs."

He did so and let them examine and probe him, saying nothing.

Evidently satisfied, he was motioned to the third gurney. Climbing on it, he lay back and a sheet was pulled over him. The guards still stood about… weapons pointed as if any moment he'd rise up and slay them. John sighed.

The white-coated doctor tied a rubber tourniquet about John's left arm until his vein popped up. The man tapped the vein, then held up a needle attached to the pouches of drugs. "This will only hurt a moment."

John nodded as he stared at the white ceiling and felt the pinch in his arm. The doctor opened the valve and John felt cold fluid race into his veins. Yet in the aftermath… as his cognitive functions began to close down… he felt warm… and strangely safe… as if wrapped in light.

-----

Upstairs, commotion ruled the day. On the heels of the arrival of the immortal several of them recognized as Kage… came word of an attack on one of the facilities across town. Paris had always been a draw for immortals… and the Watchers owned several pieces of property here. While this one was where the main library was currently located, at other facilities were offices, and training academy classes for new recruits.

To several at this facility… the arrival of Kage under guard and the attack on the classroom building must be related. No one was reported dead… but the building had been breached. Had Kage returned to the bully and mercenary he had been? If so… why had he seemed so calm… so pleasant… nodding with a smile at some of them as if they were his dearest friends. To a few… his capture and incarceration rang eerily of Darius. Among many of the older ones, a sense of guilt for their unwitting part in the death of the priest still rang a chord.

Others expressed curiosity as to why Kage was being taken downstairs to the medical section. It was in the midst of this, that Henry Rawlins' secretary, Debra James, arrived. Her face paled as she listened to what had happened. She hesitated to admit she'd been remiss in her duties about contacting the Paris offices last night. Could the attack have been prevented if she'd called it in when Rawlins had called her?

Word was coming over the wires about events in Italy this morning and in California yesterday. Debra held her head in her shaking hands as she listened to the death toll. "_We are no threat to them!_" she inwardly groaned. "_We only Watch and record their lives for the future. Why have they done this?_"

"Has anyone heard from Mischkov this morning?" Rawlins was currently unavailable and Mischkov was the man in charge.

"He called in the location of a safe house where he thought we'd find Kage earlier," said one Watcher. "We sent the squad there… didn't find Kage or Grace Chandel. The place was empty."

"Any further word?" There was murmuring among those present. No one had heard from the enforcer in hours.

"Did he say where he was? What he was doing?"

The Watcher who'd taken Mischkov's hurried message shook his head. "I gather he was on assignment for Rawlins."

There were a few people present who knew that "on assignment" likely meant the man was interrogating someone. Feet shuffled back and forth nervously. Some knew Mischkov was deadly, while others only disliked the cold and unfeeling assistant director.

Debra cleared her throat. "We need to open lines of communication with the separate groups and learn what is happening. This erratic behavior by immortals does not seem to be located only here. The Council needs to meet!"

The Watcher's Council had pretty much been dissolved in recent years as Rawlins and his faction had gathered more and more of the reigns of power to themselves. Perhaps it was time for a return to the old days.

At the door… retired Watcher and former council member Pierre Gautier agreed. "If there is anything I can do… I am at the Council's disposal." No one noticed the merry twinkle in his eye. Gautier had been visiting some of his protégés in recent weeks and was known to many of the new Watchers as a pleasant man with a vast knowledge of immortals and a calm demeanor.

The few who knew him well, and who had already been approached by him, smiled as they watched the master tactician in operation. Gautier appeared willing to help with the current crisis… but not eager. He'd motion denial of being in charge… and then reluctantly accept it… purely on a temporary basis… of course… just until the Council could be re-assembled.

Swiftly he barked orders about setting up a satellite conference… or whatever the organization used these days… in the main boardroom. He would chair the meeting in Rawlins' apparent absence. When someone asked about Kage downstairs… Gautier shrugged. "Until I've met with the Council and we know what is going on… I'm certain he will be fine." Pierre turned away with a wry smile. While he'd have his people attempt to go through Rawlins' and Mischkov's records, he hoped that those who were in Rawlins' inner circle, would make the attempt to take Kage and the others Amy Meyers had seen being held downstairs to wherever the others were being held.

If Amy were right… it might be the only way they'd ever know what was truly going on… and where.

-----

Outside the Watcher facility, the remnants of Burt's task force huddled in their van. The GPS clearly showed the location of the prisoner within the building. He had not moved for some time. Burt had told them to listen to Amy… and to proceed with plans.

The task force members knew Amy's father had been tortured, two members of their team were dead, and the man Mischkov that they'd been watching was evidently on his way to England… and Burt's children. Several of the group had wanted to accompany Burt… but he'd been unwilling to wait for them. "Besides… Amy will need you… Joe's friends will need you," he'd told them over his cell phone. "The best way you can make certain that the right people pay for what happened to Roberts and Tamika, is to do your job." Peter Ryan focused on the signal. They were gassed up and ready to go once it started moving.

Half an hour later… it moved. Ryan watched the signal slowly change location… and then move more quickly.

"A supply truck just pulled out of the back entrance," called in Javier Moreno.

Ryan gave a nod. "You and Shawn stay on watch here while we head out. Watch each other's back. Contact Burt's wife, Amy that we are on the move and keep her in the loop. We'll be in touch."

"Will do. Good luck!"

"Luck is not a factor," said Ryan as he rang off. The van pulled out and kept pace with the truck. Idly he wondered how Burt was doing.

-----

****

The Chunnel

Burt watched through the window as _Le Shuttle_ sped swiftly through the underground Channel tunnel. While underground… his cell phone was inoperable. He felt cut off from everything… and he was worried. Was Mischkov ahead of him? If so… was he a danger? He, Amy, and Joe thought so. And how went the operation? He had to trust that his team would follow his instructions and do whatever Amy asked them to do. The members of the team did not know about immortals, only that this group that Amy worked for, was apparently kidnapping people and holding them somewhere. He didn't know what they might end up seeing. Amy and Joe had filled him in on several aspects of the immortals… especially the fact that some of these people could and would kill anyone in their way.

With that he wondered about Mischkov. He'd been in a hurry when he'd taken the man's pulse… and Joe had been in obvious distress. Had Burt missed the pulse… or was Mischkov immortal? And if he were… would Burt have the expertise and strength to stop him?

The shuttle slowed, and Burt fumed… tapping his fingers on his steering wheel. This was normally a twenty-minute trip. Was Mischkov on this same train? Or had he found another way… a faster way? Burt turned on the radio and heard only static. He punched the CD player and his tapping began to beat in concert with the rock music.

Slowly… the blaring music calmed him… helped him focus. He had everything he needed to do this job… he had to focus on his children… and their lives. But part of him wondered how Amy and Joe were doing.

He'd call her again once he was out of this.


	101. Chapter 97

****

Chapter 97

Paris, the grove

"I'm going!" snapped Duncan and threw off Amanda's and Cory's arms as they attempted to restrain him.

"You can't Duncan," Amanda was attempting to explain. "They'll be looking for you! All you'll do is get yourself captured or killed. Then what'll we do?"

Still Duncan struggled. Grace lay one hand on his arm and gazed deeply into his eyes. "Duncan… please… I need you to help rescue John."

Duncan paused in his struggle and looked at Grace… the question in his eyes. "John?"

Grace nodded and pulled her hand back. She smiled. "John Kirin," she said softly.

"Kage? You and Kage?" he sputtered and then was silent. Although he'd met the new Kage… the man transformed into a man of peace… he'd still had misgivings about him. Duncan still felt the man's change of attitude might be for show only… He still harbored hatred for Kage's past actions. And… as always… he felt protective of Grace.

Grace smiled warmly as she nodded again.

Duncan found himself speechless. The idea that someone he'd once loved and been with could be associated with someone like Kage galled him. But then, he smiled, Grace had always had a tendency to associate with the wrong men most of the time… as if she could somehow remake them all into some image she carried in her mind about heroic knights in armor.

"He's not the man you knew, Duncan… and I do know all about it."

Duncan shook his head. "I doubt he's told you everything."

"You're wrong. Nevertheless… John has turned himself in to the Watchers. With his help… we may be able to find them all." Tears sparkled in her dark eyes.

Derrick, who'd gone up the stairs after Grace had explained what had happened to Joe, returned with a half-filled jar of water and his backpack. He'd donned a long coat while upstairs. He handed the jar to Ellie who refilled it from the spring and screwed on a lid.

She rose unsteadily and handed Derrick the jar to put in the backpack. "All of you should remain here and attempt to figure out our next move. I'll go… The Watchers don't know about me. I won't be long." She reached for the backpack.

Derrick shook his head. "Look at you… you can barely stand. You're not going by yourself. They don't know me either." He slipped the backpack over one shoulder and leaned to collect the great sword that Duncan had earlier noticed was leaning against the rocks about the spring.

The boy adjusted the sword within his coat. Duncan eyed him thoughtfully. Derrick was still pre-immortal. Did he know? If he did… how would that impact on his chances of returning from first death?

Ellie nodded and reached out one hand to give Derrick's a squeeze.

"But Joe's my friend… I should be there," Duncan insisted.

Ellie turned to the Highlander with a sad smile. "I know… and he knows. The best thing you can do for him right now… is to figure out a plan by which we can rescue Methos and the others."

"And Ian," Alisaunne added. She was sitting now on the rocks. About her was still an eerie and somehow unsettling calm.

"And John," Grace said. "Saving immortal lives was important to your friend, Duncan. Honor his wishes… and save them all. Duncan… you have always been the one who could bring us together and help us get along. You draw immortals to you in friendship like flowers draw the honeybees. Over the centuries, you have forged relationships with many of us. If anyone can coordinate so many disparate immortals into working together… it is you. You are our champion… our leader. You are the chieftain of the clan."

Her words made an impact. Duncan drew back and gazed around at the immortals present. It was true. They were all his friends, even Cory. These new Watchers had captured so many because they'd been picked off one by one. He still didn't know how many were victims… but he knew… if they worked together… if they presented a united front… no matter their differences… they would triumph. "_Did ya not know_," he seemed to hear the boy that he'd once been say, "_that good must always triumph over evil_."

Gently Amanda's hands slid lightly up his arm. "We need you too, Duncan." She smiled and stepped closer… tenderly laying her cheek against his chest. Duncan MacLeod hugged her and closed his eyes. He nodded. He felt torn in two… but they were right. There was nothing he could do for Joe… his friend was in the hands of mortal doctors… and he… Duncan MacLeod… was needed here.

Opening his eyes he saw Ellie's warm smile. She turned and leaned to embrace Alisaunne. He still wanted to know what that was about. Alisaunne's arms went about the tiny immortal's waist and she buried her head in Ellie's embrace. Ellie gasped and drew in a startled breath, then bent to kiss the girl's head, murmuring a whispered "Thank you!" When she turned, Duncan saw that some color had returned to her otherwise pale cheeks.

"I won't be long. But this is something I have to do. Something only I can do."

Derrick took her hand and the two of them vanished through an opening that closed behind them, in one of the stone walls.

Cory scratched his head, "Where does that lead?"

Grace smiled. "It's just another passage," she said. "Now then… come upstairs and let me see if I can fix you something to eat. I think I saw some maps up there… and there might be some better clothes."

"Upstairs?" Duncan looked up the stone stairs to the wooden door and regarded it thoughtfully. He reached for the backpack that contained the old laptop. His PPC was still in his pocket. He'd need to check his email and get in touch with Phillip, Reagan, and Katya. He'd have to find out where they were and what had been happening… and he'd have to coordinate their efforts. He clasped Amanda's hand, brought it to his mouth in a brief kiss, and followed Grace up the stairs. A thousand questions flew through his mind about this place and what it meant… questions that would have to wait until Ellie returned.

Behind them, Cory shook his head and regarded Alisaunne. "Can you tell me about that Nestor fellow the others mentioned?"

Alisaunne stared at him, then at the ground. "He's darkness. The worst of us."

"Duncan said you could hear him in your dreams… feel his presence. Is he gone now?"

Alisaunne shook her head. "No… he's only withdrawn for the moment. He is a part of me… and I know he will never cease until I am fully his. The Ancient's quickening has given me the strength to fight Nestor's for a while. But only for a while." She dipped one hand into the spring's waters and watched the water drip from her fingers.

Cory backed away… and then climbed the stairs. He had many questions… and he wanted some answers.

-----

****

Paris, Joe's hospital room

Amy stirred in her sleep. She had not intended to sleep at all, but after everything that had happened last night and this morning… once she'd sat down in the chair by Joe's bed… listening to the sounds of the monitors beeping rhythmically… she'd suddenly realized how absolutely exhausted she was. Gradually her eyelids had gotten heavy… her head had nodded… and against her best intentions… she'd fallen into a light doze.

She was not certain what had awakened her at first. Perhaps it was the strange journal of the immortal Aella, which she'd been glancing through, falling to the floor… or perhaps it was the entrance of a nurse.

Amy reached down to retrieve the journal and glanced up… swiftly realizing that it was no nurse standing by Joe's bedside and leaning over him. The raggedly dressed figure was female, and of short stature, around five feet.

Amy sat back, startled. Hearing a foot shift against the floor, she glanced up at the doorway. Leaning against the wall was the tall young man she'd seen earlier… the one who'd come to Joe for help… and left with Grace at Joe's urging.

He met Amy's gaze evenly.

The woman by the bedside murmured softly to Joe, and dipped her fingers into a jar of liquid, which she spread across Joe's lips.

Strangely, Amy was not concerned. "You're her… aren't you… Aella."

The woman glanced at Amy and nodded, then returned her attention to Joe. A few moments later he seemed to rally. The beeps of the monitors did not change… but he seemed to breathe more easily and moved his head.

Aella lifted his head, holding the jar of fluid to his lips. "Drink Joseph, please."

At first there was no sense of his understanding… then he swallowed and seemed to sip. Once he appeared to have swallowed some. Aella set the jar down and lowered Joe's head gently. She sat beside him and gently leaned to kiss his brow. Amy could see tears in her eyes.

"I think this is yours," Amy said and offered the Chronicle.

Aella looked at it with confusion… and then smiled and took it into her hand and thumbed through it. "He wrote it down. He said he was going to." She closed the book and handed it back. "It belongs to you now." She laughed lightly as Joe's eyes opened.

"There you are, darlin'," he whispered.

Aella leaned to kiss him. And then bit her lips as the tears fell. She reached for the fluid and gave him another sip.

"It's spring water Joseph… from the grove. It may help."

Joe closed his eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly. One hand fumbled for the immortal's hand and squeezed it lightly.

"Just remember, Joseph… you still owe me a tour of Chicago."

Amy saw her father smile, as he seemed to drift off into sleep again. Aella sat for a moment more… then removed Joe's hand from hers and gently lay it on the bed. She rose and faced Amy. "It's only water… but it's pure. It won't hurt him… and it may help."

Amy nodded… she had a thousand questions. She considered where to begin.

Just then Joe's doctor entered hurriedly, "Ms. Meyers… I need to discuss your father's test results." He paused seeing Aella. "Who?"

The immortal smiled and crossed to him.

He stared at her.

She raised one hand and tapped the end of his nose with one finger. "I was never here." She smiled at Amy. "Give Joe the water." Then she passed the doctor whose expression was of thoughtful confusion.

Amy fumbled in her pocket and pulled out two cell phones. She glanced at both of them. One was hers; one was Joe's. She held Joe's out. "Please, take this. Stay in touch. Or give it to Grace so I can contact her about John."

The boy reached forward and took the phone. He nodded his thanks and put the phone in his coat pocket. Aella took the boy's hand and the two of them left.

The doctor shook his head. "What? Was someone just here?"

Amy smiled and shrugged as she replaced her cell phone in her pocket. If Joe had found it important to keep this immortal's existence a secret… she would too. "You said something about Joe's test results?"

The doctor nodded as he looked around the room. Finally he shrugged and explained the results.

-----

Derrick and Eleanor exited the hospital and stood for a moment at the main entrance as they stared out into the front grounds.

"He's dying, isn't he?" Derrick said softly.

"All mortals are dying, Derrick. It's their gift… rest at the end of the road." Eleanor rubbed her arms and sighed. Derrick could see the tears were back. She sniffed.

"That's why the water. It doesn't heal… but it eases the passing."

Eleanor's shoulders shook and she closed her eyes as the tears fell. She let a small, strangled sob escape and then she shook her head, took a deep breath and looked at Derrick.

She held out a hand. He pulled her into an embrace and hugged her to comfort her. "You loved him."

Eleanor nodded. "I've let myself really love so few in my life. I loved my grandfather. I loved King Kenneth who became my guardian. I loved Edward… Methos," she laughed, "Phillip… Darius," she glanced at Derrick. "… and you. And I once dared love Joseph a lifetime ago. I only wish… we'd had a chance."

"But if you'd taken that chance," Derrick said sadly, "What would have happened to me… to Methos?"

Eleanor smiled as she backed away and turned. "Methos would have waited. We'd have still had a chance. Immortals always have another chance."

"And me?"

Eleanor looked at him shaking her head. "Perhaps I would have found _you_ anyway." She reached for his hand again. "It's time to go back."

She did not say home. The grove was no longer her home, Derrick knew. Her home was wherever Methos was. Derrick also knew something else. The grove was not his home. Nor would it ever be. His destiny lay elsewhere… just as she'd always told him.


	102. Chapter 98

****

Chapter 98

Athens

Despite his insistent sense that he needed to be free… that he needed to reach Nick… that he was needed now, Ursa sat calmly in the holding cell. These men around the cage did not seem inherently evil… they simply could not understand him. Thus the small one had said to wait. If Ursa waited… then the moment would come. And… when the moment came… he'd break free… find the small one… and together they would find Nick.

To pass the time that seemed to crawl by, he sang… unaware of its effect on others as he'd always been. He'd sung because it was beautiful. Music had always been a sound that had reached to the heavens and filled him with a fire and made him wish to fly. When he'd joined the brothers in their singing long ago… learning the chants… he'd been one of them. We had been welcomed to be with them… serve with them… live with them.

Then they'd gone and in terror he'd fled to the caves below the streets. Eventually, once more he'd heard music. But this music was unlike anything he'd heard before. Sung by a woman, it had reached even higher heights. For her, he'd killed. For her he'd almost destroyed several of the others. But the MacLeod had come. And he'd helped Ursa see that the woman was not a good person. Free of her spell, he'd watched her die and felt sadness that one who could fill the world with such beauty… had not been touched by it herself.

The MacLeod had placed him with other brothers who had also sung. Ursa had been at home at once. But the old ones had come and said he must move on. He must go to the school and protect the small ones. Sadly he had gone… for he missed the music. But he'd discovered to his joy that the music was wherever he was. He carried it inside him… and he could sing to the walls… and feel the music echo again and again.

Now the small ones had fled from the school. The end of days was here as had been foretold long ago. Even Nestor had returned. Ursa shivered… trying to recall Nestor, as he'd been long ago… when Ursa had stood at the side of the old ones and wielded his great blade for them. He shuddered. Nestor had held him for a time. Nestor was bad. Nestor had hurt him. Ursa's mind turned from that. It was difficult to explain. It was difficult to understand. Perhaps the old ones would explain some day.

Now he knew that he needed to go to Nick. But first he had to be free. And then he had to find the small one. With a start, Ursa realized his thoughts had returned to the beginning. He glanced dully around at the men and women gathered around his cell staring at him. He closed his eyes and slowly fell to one side. He would be still and silent. They would open the door. And the chance would come.

-----

Denara clutched the stuffed rabbit and allowed the medical personnel to check her over. They seemed very caring… she could hear their clucking about "the poor child". Denara bit her tongue and waited. She raised her arms when they asked it of her. She stuck out her tongue. It did not matter. She knew they'd find nothing wrong with her… although she worried about blood tests. Perhaps she could feign hysterics if they brought a needle.

So far they seemed more interested in how she moved… and whether the man had mistreated her. Denara had said nothing other than to say no, Ursa was her friend. Finally the door had opened and a severe couple entered. Immediately Denara understood that these were her supposed parents. Since she did not know them… she sat very still and waited.

The woman approached and tentatively put an arm about her shoulders. Denara could smell her fear.

"Denara, yes… this is our Denara whom we lost. This is our child."

Denara said nothing but shrugged the woman's hand free and glared at her.

"I fear she has no memory of either of you. It is a sad case," the doctor said sympathetically.

"I don't recall them because I have never met them." Denara immediately regretted her outburst. But she was tired of this, and she was weary of pretending to be something she wasn't.

Then she felt it… another immortal. She clutched the rabbit and shrank back on the exam table. Her pretend parents stared at one another and then at the door. Denara smiled. They knew and they'd just betrayed that fact to her.

Both seemed to realize it in the same moment and regarded one another and then her. The father opened the door to speak to someone in the hall… and then all hell broke loose.

-----

Ursa had continued to feign unconsciousness as his jailers had fussed over him in the holding cell. He'd maintained his lax form and did not respond… no matter what.

He felt himself at last lifted on a stretcher and carried out. His hearing told him that at least four men were struggling to get his body into a vehicle of some sort. Around him he heard others… likely armed. He kept his eyes closed, and did not move.

Once he was shoved into the vehicle, and he heard the doors close just before it began to drive, he breathed more easily. He still needed to wait… just a little longer… until he sensed Denara. Once he did… nothing would stop him.

-----

Ursa opened his eyes as the doctors hovered over him and smiled. Slowly he sat up. Two armed men aimed weapons at him. He stood and looked dully around. He could feel her… at least he hoped it was the small one. She'd said not to harm the others if he could help it.

Resolutely he headed out of the curtained area.

"Stop!"

"We'll shoot!"

Their words meant nothing to him. They were just words. Before the men could fire, Ursa pulled their weapons out of their hands as he passed them … and broke the weapons. The men drew back in fear… but Ursa was through with them… it was the small one he had to reach.

He stalked through the Emergency Room, pushing away anyone who got in his way… anyone who attempted to hold him… and focused on the buzzing feel of the other immortal. No matter who attempted to stop him, he pushed them away. Anyone who aimed a weapon at him had it ripped from his hands. Ursa would not be stopped!

Arriving at the closed and guarded door of an examining room, Ursa reached out to grasp the neck of the guard and cast him away. The door opened… and another man stared at him startled… his eyes widened in fear.

Ursa tossed the man in his hands and grasped the other man who'd been attempting to slam the door. Pulling him out of the room, the giant likewise tossed him to one side and entered the small room. The small one was here! He reached his arms for her as she reached for him.

"Ursa!" he heard Denara say as his arms closed about her in triumph. Holding her, the giant immortal turned to race from this place. He heard shouts behind him and angry calls. In his loping gait… he carried her swiftly through the streets. "We need to hide Ursa!" the child in his arms said insistently.

Ursa nodded. His eyes swept over the surface of the streets until he found what he sought… a storm drain. With one massive hand he pulled it free with a great wrench, tossed it aside… and leaped into the water below… Denara still in his arms. He turned from the light above him… and waded through the rushing water into the darkness… and the familiar feel of the world below the surface.

He could still hear the voices of they who followed. But although Ursa did not know this system, he knew what rushing water meant… and he knew if he followed it, it would lead him to the sea. Clutching the small one in his arms… he followed the torrent of water.

-----

"I see light ahead!" Denara called out after some time. She was cold and wet despite Ursa's attempts to hold her high above the surface of the water. Her stuffed rabbit was sodden. He'd likely have to be discarded soon. She'd have to find another animal to hold her blade. Right now… the blade within him was their only weapon. "Set me down over there!"

Ursa nodded and stood the small one on a stone outcropping and watched as she tore the rabbit opened and brandished the small blade… little more than a knife to one of his size. Denara dropped the rabbit. She reached out her arms for him to pick her up once more. Ursa did so and crouched as the tunnel became smaller and smaller as it began a downward slope.

He slipped and slid on the slimy surface, but held Denara tightly as they both were swept away by the force of the water. Faster and faster they moved through the tunnel until they were cast out into the light. They seemed to hold for a moment in the air… before falling to the blue waters below. Plunging into the sea… he still kept his hold on her. Finally the downward plunge ended, and he kicked to force them upward again. He still breathed… but he'd felt the small one die from lack of air.

His head broke above the surface of the waves. He shifted Denara so that her face, too, was above the surface. In one lax hand was her knife. He grasped that in his hand as he kicked out for the shore. When his feet touched sand beneath him… Ursa lifted Denara in his arms and carried her to the beach, where he lay her gently on the sand.

He pushed her dark hair from her face and glanced around at the others who were on this beach. They gathered around… curiosity on their faces. Denara coughed… spitting up water. Ursa leaned back on his heels.

They'd be coming soon. He needed to get to a boat! He gathered her into his arms and loped toward a small boat pulled up on the sand. He dropped Denara into the boat as he pushed it into the water and leaped in after her. Grabbing two oars… Ursa began to row away from the shore… and out to sea. Behind him the others on the shore shouted. He did not look back.

****

-----

Denara shaded her eyes as Ursa rowed. She was nervous. They were all too easy a target out here on the water's surface.

"Head for a cove!" she said pointing in the direction of an isolated area.

Ursa stopped rowing and shook his head. "Have to get to Nick!"

"You can't row that far Ursa… we'll find another way."

Sadly Ursa turned the boat. Overhead a helicopter approached and hovered… its blades whipping around and blowing the seawater about them in choppy waves. A man leaned from the chopper, aimed a rifle, and fired.

Ursa's arm flinched at the impact. He shook his head, roaring his defiance, and continued to row. Denara gazed up at the chopper and then at the shore. There was no escape… except the water again. And this time… she knew the Watchers would be watching… and waiting.

Another shot rang out and blood spurted from Ursa's head as he stiffened and then slumped over the oars.

Another man began rappelling down a rope. Denara crouched in the boat… her sword gripped tightly in her small hand. They'd pay! She'd make certain they paid.

As the man swung above the boat and then dropped into it… she slashed and pushed him over. Blood spread about him… in the distance she saw a shark's fin. She had no time to consider it. She heard another shot… and crumpled into the boat.

-----

When Denara came to herself, she was being lifted into the hovering helicopter. As the harness restraining her swayed in the breeze of the circling blades, she struggled to be free and watched in horror as a man lifted a _katana_ and severed Ursa's head.

The quickening blasted out in a massive surge and the helicopter swiveled around and around, fighting the force of the explosion. Lightning crackled over it, killing the electronics. The helicopter began its headlong dash into the blue Aegean.

For the second time in recent memory, Denara felt the quickening of a friend blast into her. But whereas Luke's had been gentle and weak… this quickening was strong enough to make her scream and shudder uncontrollably. Wave after wave of power sparked into her… and the excess power brought storm clouds and darkness.

As she sank into the water… inexorably pulled by the sinking helicopter… she understood Ursa's compulsion to return to Niebos. Something was horribly wrong… and there was no one who could stop it. Then the darkness of death took her… and she knew nothing more.

-----

****

Niebos

He'd almost been free!

He'd had control of his bride! He could see through her eyes… speak with her mouth… and kill with her hand.

She was his as he'd always intended… and then the quickening of the other had pushed him out. Nestor was blinded and crippled once more… trapped in the young immortal's body. He huddled in the hole he'd climbed into and silently cursed those who were interfering with his plans.

If he could not have her… then he'd take another. The only one here, though, was the little girl. And even the girl was damaged goods at the moment. He'd sliced her throat and almost taken her head. He'd been shot, though… before he could finish the job. This immortal's body was too young to recover quickly… and he'd wailed as it had died.

Awakening on the cold slab… he'd listened to be certain he was alone, and then he'd simply rolled off… and crawled to a wall. Although he couldn't see… he could hear. When someone came in… he'd launched himself at the man… beating at him until he fell unconscious. He'd continued beating the man to a pulp with his single arm and crippled palm, exulting in the satisfying _crunch_ of bone. Once he'd finished, he'd slowly and cautiously crawled away, eventually finding himself outside. Now, it was only a matter of finding a place to hide… and a weapon.

He heard heavy footsteps and leaped out of the shadows at the passing man. He fumbled about him and beat him until he found a knife. Using his mouth, he positioned the blade and rammed it through his palm once more… Nestor used it to silence the man and then crawled away. The writing pad the others had created for him to use years ago came to mind. He'd used it often… learning dexterity and control with the palm. Those skills he needed now. Hearing the ocean… he scrambled down onto the sand and huddled under something… in the cool shadows.

He heard children's voices… and the barking of a dog. Licking the still bloody knife with his mouth… excited by the long denied taste of blood… Nestor positioned himself.


	103. Chapter 99

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Chapter 99

Paris, the grove

By the time Ellie and Derrick had reappeared within the grove, Duncan had been filled in on Grace's adventures… and John's decision to be the means by which the lost immortals might be found. He'd logged onto his email and read Katya's report of the raid in California. The Highlander realized that despite his best hopes to the contrary… a state of war likely existed between Watchers and immortals… a war he'd desperately hoped to avoid.

"How are we supposed to follow that signal?" Duncan muttered to Grace.

"Your friend Dawson's daughter was going to coordinate the efforts of some friends of her father's and some people who worked for her husband." Swiftly she began telling him what she knew about the other faction of Watchers… the ones out of power in this organization… the ones who were trying to stop this operation… whatever it was… in their own way.

She was still talking when Duncan glanced up to see Ellie and Derrick return. Ellie looked pale again… as if her strength were being leached out of her somehow. Duncan was worried. He noted that a few strands of her hair were gray. Was she aging?

Duncan shook his head. Ellie was still an enigma. "How's Joe?" he asked… anxious to know how his friend was doing.

"Holding his own for the moment," Ellie whispered as she wavered a bit… and then sat down in a chair. She shook as if she were weary beyond comprehension. As Duncan watched she closed her eyes and a soft smile played over her features… as if she were being held or caressed. She sighed and opened her eyes. Lifting one arm she pointed. "Methos is there… in that direction."

Duncan glanced through the window and then down at his scattered maps. Orienting one of Paris and one of Europe in the direction she pointed with the help of his compass… he grabbed a marker and drew a line across each of them.

Derrick cleared his throat. "Grace? Amy said to give you this." He held out a cell phone. "She'll call when they know something."

Duncan snatched it. He pulled up the menu and high-lighted "AMY" on the phone and punched for it to automatically dial.

"Hello? Grace?"

"No… this is Duncan MacLeod… Joe's friend. How is he?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Then Grace is with you?"

"Yes."

"Tell her John's on the move. The signal indicates they are moving him eastward. Burt's people are following."

"And Joe?"

Another pause. "Tell Grace the lab indicated it wasn't poison… it was a caustic agent. Horribly debilitating… but not deadly if we get it flushed from his system in time. It's just… his age might not give us the time it may take."

Duncan slowly pulled the map of Europe over and stared at it... and the slightly southeastern line he'd drawn. Slowly he ran a finger along the line and tapped it thoughtfully. Perhaps between the two… they'd find the place. "Call me back, when your people know more." Ringing off, he told Grace what Amy had said. He glanced at Ellie… she still seemed elsewhere at the moment.

"Duncan?"

The Highlander glanced over at Derrick.

"Is that your laptop?"

Duncan nodded.

"May I?" The boy reached for it as Duncan watched him. He wanted to talk to Derrick… he wanted to know what the boy knew. Duncan wanted to ask about the two symbols he'd recently seen within the juxtaposition of several of the pages. He wanted to know about Derrick's reasons for carrying the sword with him. He wanted to know everything the boy knew. But recalling Derrick's intent fascination with the information on the disc… Duncan merely nodded.

Derrick picked up the laptop as well as the one he'd used all these years. Settling on the sleeping bag on the floor… his long legs splayed out before him, he cabled the two computers together and began running both programs… swiftly merging the two sets of positions. As they merged… Derrick leaned back and shrugged out of the coat he'd donned and laid it to one side… wrapped about the great sword. Then he focused his attention on the programs running, and stared intently at both screens.

"What is it with you men and that computer?" Amanda laughed. She was leaning on the counter sipping a cup of instant coffee that Grace had managed to scrounge up.

Cory was just emerging from the other room where he'd changed into Derrick's spare shirt, discarding the jacket he'd pulled off of one of the Watchers. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Okay… now I'm fed, watered, and dressed. Now who's going to explain to me what the hell is going on!"

Amanda spit coffee out in a snort. She rolled her eyes. "Let's you and I take a walk and see if I can answer your questions." She slipped an arm through his as the two of them left, descending the stone stairs. She blew Duncan a kiss as she left… then wiggled her fingers.

"Ellie?" Duncan turned to Eleanor. "The symbols written inside the cover of**_Les Miserables_**… what do you know about them?"

For a moment… Ellie did not react. Then she looked at him with a smile. "They are the writing of the early immortals. Methos knew them. He taught them to me."

Duncan sat beside her. "I traced them on Amanda's hand and sparks flew."

Ellie's eyes opened wide. "No! You mustn't do that… not unless you're both ready. It can be dangerous!"

"Explain!" he demanded.

Ellie sighed and nodded. "They are the symbols by which two immortals are joined and united as one. But they are dangerous Duncan. If used too soon or without true understanding… misery, jealousy, and despair can follow in their wake. Once joined… you are always so… even if you wish it were not."

"You and Methos?"

"Yes… but it took almost twelve hundred years for us to be ready… both of us. But if it sparked between you and Amanda… then it was not just for us. Maybe we are to show the way for others. Show what may be possible."

"You're saying Amanda and I could…" Duncan's voice trailed away thoughtfully. "We have to be certain we both want this."

Ellie nodded. "Tracing them on one another is the beginning. Eventually…" she raised one hand to her neck where Duncan noticed for the first time two faint scars, "you carve them on one another."

Duncan stared at the door. "Alisaunne… Nestor. That's why he cut her… and himself. That's why she dreams of him."

Eleanor's expression changed from contentment to horror. "When he cut her… he marked her? He cut himself?" She raised her hands to her mouth. "That explains so much. He knew! Somehow… he knew!" Ellie rose to rush out, stumbling as she did so. She absently rubbed a hand over her head, then shook her head as though attempting to clear it of something. Letting out a ragged breath she turned to stare at Duncan. "Methos!" she breathed as her eyes went wide. She collapsed into Duncan's arms and began thrashing as though in some fit.

"Ellie!" Derrick cried… her distress the first thing that broke the boy's reverie. Casting aside the computers… he jumped up and pulled Ellie from Duncan's arms. Derrick collapsed still holding her. "It's happening again!"

Ellie's eyes rolled up so that only the whites showed… and her fingers began to spasm back and forth.

Grace knelt to feel the immortal woman… and paled. She glanced up at Duncan and grasped one of his hands. "She needs more than I have… I fear. Help her Duncan."

"How?"

"Just relax… and let her draw strength from you. Her connection with Methos is draining her somehow. We need her. To find them all, we need her."

Duncan's hand was placed on Ellie's chest. He felt a slight pull… as if some part of him was being drained. For one moment he resisted… but the look of concern in Grace's eyes made him relax… and he let go.

"_One_," he seemed to hear. "_We are all one…_"

Duncan smiled and stared as Ellie's face once more glowed with health. The strands of gray seemed to darken. She sighed audibly and curled up in Derrick's encircling arms. Duncan sat back on his heels and stared at Grace. "Did you hear it too?"

Grace smiled. "We are all one… Each of us is a part of the whole. Our immortality links us to one another in some way I don't yet fathom. I heard it earlier."

Duncan stared at the door. "_Alisaunne!_" he thought. "_She's linked to Nestor somehow… in a way that might never be broken._" He rose with worry to stare down from the landing to the figures below.

Alisaunne still sat by the spring… humming. Amanda and Cory paced about and Duncan could hear Amanda's voice cheerfully attempting to explain everything to her friend.

Somehow… Duncan had to forge this group and the ones in other parts of the world into a unified whole. He had to find a way for all of them to work together… not just his friends… but also his enemies. It was as Grace and Amanda had told him… it was his destiny. One he'd been prepared for by his father… Ian MacLeod… one he'd instinctively turned to over the centuries as he made friends with other immortals. His lifelong imperative to protect the clan… coursed through his veins like a great cry of triumph.

"Where before there was mistrust… and only the game," he muttered. "Now we have a loosely knit community. What more might be possible?" He turned back to observe Derrick rocking Ellie in his arms. The boy stared at him sadly. If they lost Ellie and Methos… would they still find their way through this? Or would the secrets that the two of them had unlocked with their commitment to one another be lost for another thousand years?

Duncan MacLeod felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had to end this war… and save their lost companions. "Now and always… we were always one," Duncan whispered. "We were and always will be one."

As if she'd heard him… Alisaunne looked up at him with a smile.

Darkness and light... friend and enemy… war and peace… life and death. It was a part of each of them… and a balance between them had to be struck. Without balance… then chaos and the imperative of the game to_be_the one… to_be_one… would overwhelm them all.

Duncan could not help but wonder how long the light quickening of the Ancient One that Alisaunne had taken in the church… would protect her from Nestor. How long before the ancient darkness threatened them all once more. He shook his head. He could not worry about Nestor right now. Amanda had told him that Phillip and the others were guarding him. Duncan had to focus on the Watchers… and what they had planned… and trust that Phillip would be watching over Nestor… and keeping him contained.

Turning back into the room, Duncan crossed to the table to lean on it… and stare at the maps. What was there along the line he'd drawn? He pulled out his PPC and began to mark the additional coordinates that Katya had sent days ago. The answers had to lie in those.

-----

****

Near the border of France and Italy

The petrol gauge indicated he was dangerously low in fuel. Phillip pulled into the next service station and up to the pump. He handed a wad of bills to Keith. "Go inside… be ready to pay so we can leave."

As he watched Keith approach the cashier, Phillip's mind churned. He'd originally planned on going to Rome and then from there taking the children back to Athens where they'd be safe. While Phillip knew they weren't_really_children… he still felt protective.

But Keith's comments about Eleanor and Derrick worried him. If Methos was a captive somewhere… then Eleanor might retreat to the darkness that had once been so much a part of her… and if she did… what would happen then? He needed to find her… and he needed to find Methos.

They'd been so busy this morning… he'd hadn't checked his email. Nor had he reported to Katya the results of his raid on the Taranto facility. That Duncan was also in contact with Katya, he knew… but he'd not been in contact with the Highlander in the past twenty-four hours. Nor was he certain where he was.

They'd all been circumspect about their locations… fearing the Watchers might somehow trace them. Katya had sent all the coordinates and suggested they check out the ones in their area. Since one pair was the facility in Taranto he'd already discovered… Phillip hadn't paid too much attention to the others at the time. Now… he needed to.

The tank filled… Phillip shut the pump off and climbed into the passenger seat. He wanted to use Keith's hand-held. Keith's was a more powerful version of the proliferating PPC's. He fired it up even as Keith approached… noted Phillip's location and slipped behind the wheel.

"We still headin' for Paris?" the young immortal asked as he turned on the ignition.

Phillip nodded. He was punching in code on the keyboard. He needed those other coordinates! "For the moment!" he said curtly. "For the moment."

For a moment he worried about Valeraine, alone and watching over Nick. But the girl immortal was older than she looked… and far more mature than she appeared. If anyone could handle Nick… she could… and likely better than any of the rest of them.

Resolutely, Phillip pulled up his coded emails… and began to read.


	104. Chapter 100

****

Chapter 100

Mexico

Matt had left the others behind. Luckily… he'd managed to hitch a ride with a passing motorist. His Spanish was passable… but not great. But he'd made himself understood… at least… he hoped so. "Mexico City, the U.S. embassy."

The man behind the wheel had nodded, bouncing slightly to the sound of Latin music, and grinned. "_Si_…" he said and motioned Matt into the car. "We go _la capital_!"

Matt settled back in the car, reveling in the cranked up air conditioning after hours in the hot sun… and closed his eyes. He was more tired than he'd thought possible. After convincing the others that this was the only way… he'd taken Katya aside and made her promise not to do anything rash. She seemed to understand… but Matt was still concerned.

Within Katya was a deep-seated hatred of men who took advantage of women. She did not like having been violated… she'd told him the first memory she'd had upon awakening, was a man's hands fondling her… "I will not allow that behavior to continue!" she'd snapped, and raised her sniper rifle.

"I don't want it to continue either," Matt had assured her. "But we need to do this my way. Wait for my call… promise me."

And so she had promised.

"_Tourista?_" the driver asked.

Matt smiled. "_No, senõr_. Business."

The driver nodded and sped along the dusty highway, beating the tempo of the music on the steering wheel.

-----

Katya gazed out over the vista below and sipped from the canteen.

"I need to find more water… we're getting low," Amber said quietly.

Katya nodded and handed her the nearly empty canteen. "Give everyone a drink before you go."

Amber was scrambling down the slope when Katya whistled. Amber paused and looked back at her. Katya tossed her knife down to land in the dirt at Amber's feet. "The cactus… " she said. "If you can't find water… cut off some cactus. We can drink that."

Amber pulled the knife out of the dirt and nodded soberly. Slowly she continued down the slope. Katya observed her handing the canteen to Jade and to Jeremy who were huddled under the shade of an overhanging rock. The pair had been holding on to one another for some time. Katya shook her head. They made a strange pair, those two… the thief and the charming con man. Katya hadn't known either of them before.

Gazing into the deep blue, cloudless sky, Katya ruefully considered that she honestly hadn't known too many immortals over the years. Her focus had always been on simply surviving… on being the best warrior she could be in a game weighted heavily in favor of men. Men were bigger… stronger… they had more stamina in a fight. It was, Katya chuckled, as always… a man's world.

She'd been betrayed and killed by men and men's law. She'd survived. So she'd learned to kill from a distance. And as the years had passed… she'd learned to kill closer. She'd used brains and every trick she could think of to survive. She'd seldom let herself care for any one… until Elena. Even then… in the end… Elena had died… and her killer had gone free. He'd been the wronged husband… and the courts had freed him.

Katya sniffed. That was how she'd met Duncan MacLeod. She'd been trying to avenge Elena's death when MacLeod had interfered.

"This isn't justice," he'd told her, "it's revenge. And revenge doesn't bring peace." The face of Katya's "granddaughter"… Elena's daughter… had been what had finally stayed her hand. She would not… could not… take from Mia her only remaining parent. Katya had walked away.

She could count on one hand the number of immortals she'd spent more than a few moments with over the years before meeting this group. MacLeod was one… Reagan Cole was another.

She'd been initially uneasy to be in close contact with Amber… but had taken on motherly feelings about the younger immortal. Matt was someone from her own time… an honorable man it seemed… but still a man. She'd kept him at arm's distance for most of their trek. And the couple? Katya shook her head in wonder that they could so trust one another… so want to be with one another, that the game paled for them. Perhaps the game had never meant much to either of them.

The sound of engines revving up… broke into her reverie and she shrunk down to watch the events play out on the vista below. It looked like a convoy was heading out. But a convoy of what?

Katya couldn't tell. The vehicles had been loaded while within the huge maintenance buildings. But she could see a number of armed men holding onto the vehicles. Whatever they were transporting… they were ready for an attack. The huge gates opened and the three trucks sped up the dusty road. Clouds of dust and smoke hung in the hot air.

The guards at the gates leaped onto the final truck.

Katya re-focused her binoculars about the courtyard… seeking any movement whatsoever. She saw none. Lowering the glasses she bit her lip and then raised them again as she peered after the convoy. She could do nothing about them. Was it a trap to lure them in? Was it a re-deployment of some sort? Were they moving immortals to another location? What? And how could she find out?

Four figures left the _hacienda_ and crossed to the chopper. It revved up… its rotors whipping in the air. After all were aboard, it lifted off and followed the convoy.

The compound looked completely deserted. Katya shifted into a more comfortable position and watched and waited.

Jeremy crept up beside her. "Are they gone?"

"It looks that way."

"Should we check it out?"

Katya held her breath. Finally she lowered the binoculars. "Let's give it a few hours to be certain. Do you want to take over here?"

Jeremy glanced back down the slope. Then he looked at Katya with a nod. "I need to do something. I've never been one to sit and wait."

"Fine. Call me if you see any movement." She handed him the binoculars and scuttled down the slope to rest in the shade of the overhanging rock.

Jade pushed her dark hair out of her reddened eyes and sniffed. "There has to be another way, Katya. I don't want to lose him… not yet at least."

"Then you still believe you might have to kill him some day?"

"Of course…" Jade shrugged. "But not today, nor any day soon. Hell… I don't know. At first it was just fun. He made me laugh… he was a competent thief and I found myself wanting to spend time with him. I longed for someone to spend time with… someone I wouldn't have to watch grow old and die. Jeremy… seemed… relatively safe." She laughed at Katya's smile. "All right then… Somewhere along the line… I think I fell in love. It wasn't planned and it certainly isn't safe…" she shrugged. "But what can you do?"

"What about you and Matt?" Katya stretched beside the other woman and closed her eyes.

"Oh? We're just friends. He saved me from hanging a few times. But he was always such a straight arrow." Katya could feel Jade stretch beside her. "I always knew it would never work for us. But you and he…?"

Katya snorted and rolled on one side. Despite everything though, she'd found herself thinking of him… and wondering how he was doing.

-----

Jeremy shook Katya's shoulder. "It's been two hours. Nothing has moved."

Katya sat up and rubbed her eyes. Amber had finished gathering fluid from cactus and filling the canteens. She handed a filled one to Katya.

The immortal drank thirstily… and grimaced at the taste. Cactus juice had never been one of her favorites. But it was fluid… and it killed her thirst.

Refreshed… Katya followed Jeremy up the slope where she found Jade staring through the binoculars. "There's nothing. I think all of them left."

"If they did… they likely took our people with them." Jeremy added. "We ought to investigate. I volunteer."

Katya nodded. "Circle around like we discussed earlier and come in from the south. We'll keep an eye on everything. We'll call you if we sight anything."

Jeremy nodded, grabbed one of the cell phones and one automatic rifle with scope and one sword. "I want some protection… I'm not a fool Jade… I'll be careful." He pulled her into his arms for a long kiss… then he pulled away. "See you in my next life, sweetheart!" He saluted her with a smirk.

"Not if I see you first," Jade replied. She held onto his hand as he backed away. They each nodded and then Jeremy slipped out of the area.

From her spot under the rock shelf… Amber sadly watched him go. He was likely going to his death… but he'd insisted. "Besides," he'd said earlier with a sheepish grin, "I'm known for my ability to talk myself out of most situations I find myself in."

This entire withdrawal from the compound smacked too much of a trap. At least… if it was… Jeremy would spring it and they'd know for certain.

She watched the buzzard floating in the air… and wondered if it would feed on their flesh before too much longer. She could clearly visualize their headless corpses left in the sun for the likes of such scavengers. Compared to the other existence… doped up and the Watchers' prisoners… it might be preferable. She shivered even in the heat of the spring day. Never had the possibilities of immortality seemed so slim.

-----

Sometime later, Jeremy, slipped quietly into the _hacienda's_ compound. He'd had no difficulty in his roundabout journey to the south and then north again to the Watcher base. The gates were open… almost in invitation.

He drew his sword, and, with the automatic in the other hand, cautiously entered the grounds. He listened carefully for the sounds of movement… but heard nothing. Taking a deep breath… he rushed across the courtyard and onto the wide covered veranda of the main building. He slammed against the wall and peered cautiously through the glassed door. Still nothing.

His heart was pounding in his ears! "Easy there, Jeremy, lad," he whispered to himself. "Just one step at a time." He took a deep breath and kicked out… shattering the glass door. He entered the _hacienda_… his weapons ready.

Still nothing. He breathed raggedly and finally nodded to himself. Just as he lowered his weapons… something moved to one side. He brought his weapons to bear on… a cat.

He lowered them. "You almost lost a life, there, kitty." He let out a ragged breath and began to explore the rooms… one by one.

-----

Katya's cell phone rang. "Yes… Jeremy?"

Jade sat up expectantly.

Amber held her breath.

Katya nodded, a small smile crossed her lips. "We'll wait." Shutting the phone off she slowly took the top off the canteen to take a long draught of cactus juice. She wiped her lips.

"Well?" Jade snapped.

"Jeremy's found someone."

"Alive?"

Katya nodded. "Drugged like we were. He's unhooked the IV. It shouldn't be long."

"I'm going down there." Jade rose to scramble down the mountain slope, only to be restrained by both Amber and Katya.

"It could still be a trap. We need to wait." Amber's soft lilt gently urged caution.

Jade looked from one woman to the other and finally nodded, resuming her seat on the sandy soil. She lowered her head into her hands and shivered.

Katya fingered the cell phone. She'd need to call Matt. But she needed to wait until they knew something definite. Besides… the battery was low… and they had no way to recharge it.

-----

While waiting for Walter Graham to awaken from the drugs… Jeremy hacked into the computer he'd found. He moved between one file and another… and he didn't like what he was finding.

Walter gasped behind him.

Jeremy turned and raised his sword in warning. "Friend or foe?"

The genial man sat up, raised one hand and intoned poetically, "No man's enemy am I… No, the friend of all I be."

Jeremy snorted. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It was a line from my one-man off-off-_off_ Broadway show. I was on tour in Phoenix… to partially sold out audiences. I got… reasonable reviews. The damned critics just didn't understand. By the way… who are you and where are we?"

Jeremy bowed with a smirk and introduced himself. "As to where we are? Some mortals known as Watchers kidnapped you and had you drugged." He indicated the IV.

Walter looked around and cringed. "They hated my play that much?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Somehow I don't think it was about you. The question is… why did they leave here… and leave you behind?"

"I'm certain I have no idea!"

"No?" Sarcasm was one of the con man's strong suits. "I didn't think you would. Find something to wear and help me when you feel better. They could be back any moment… and I don't want to be here."

Walter grimaced as he looked at about the room and then down at his naked form. "Hmm… wonder where my clothes are… they were new and quite expensive… the gift of a beautiful lady who was bankrolling my tour. Why…"

Jeremy interrupted with exasperation. "Just get dressed." He returned to the computer… He needed to burn copies of some of these files and get them to someone who could understand just what he was looking at. Some of them read like autopsy reports. They made the con man uneasy. While the faces were unidentified… he knew a few of them. Jeremy began the download process and, while waiting, crossed to an inner room and stood for a moment staring into the room. It was cold in here. Air conditioning was cranked up high. A dirty operating table was in the center of the room beneath a flickering fluorescent light. Lab equipment was strewn about carelessly.

Jeremy crossed to a wall covered with a bank of small doors. Opening one, he stood to one side as the shelf emerged from the receptacle. A body lay on the slab… a headless body. It was the same with the other four bodies he found.

"Oh my?" Walter said at the door. "Anyone we know?"

"They're all missing their heads… but I think that one is Basil Morgan. I recognize his hands."

"Basil? He's an information broker and fence. He's harmless." Walter stepped closer… the sheet wrapped about him trailing on the cold cement floor.

Jeremy met Walter's gaze and both immortals nodded seriously.

"Why am I still alive?" Walter said quietly.

Jeremy shook his head. "I have no idea." He raced back into the other room and grabbed the disc he'd made of the copied files. "We need to go."

Walter had found some ill-fitting surgical scrubs and donned them swiftly. "Green is _so_ not my color!"

The two immortals raced from the _hacienda_ and back toward the south. Jeremy still had the feeling that this whole thing had been a trap… but how?

-----

"Subject is on the move, sir."

The burly squad leader sitting in the shade of the chopper grinned. He continued to sharpen his machete. "Good… Bess is thirsty again. Let me know when they stop moving."


	105. Chapter 101

****

Chapter 101

Paris, the grove

"One more time."

Eleanor, curled in one of the wooden chairs… hugging her knees to her chest, chuckled. "How many more times?"

Duncan glared at her. "All their lives might depend on this. Again."

Eleanor rose to her feet, closed her eyes and seemed to find what she sought. Duncan suddenly clasped her and twirled her about several times. She wavered a moment and then put her arm straight out, her finger pointing out the window.

Duncan quickly oriented using the compass and the map and chuckled. "Four times and you haven't wavered one iota from the same direction. Not just the same general direction… You're dead on the same direction."

Eleanor shrugged and re-settled into the chair. She'd been quiet since awakening… and impish, Duncan thought, as if she'd just spent the last few hours with Methos rather than here. There was that same smug humor in her eyes that Duncan had often seen in his friend's eyes over the years.

He glanced around the room. Derrick had returned to studying the two laptop screens. Duncan could see no sudden glimmer of understanding on the boy's part, nor had he had a chance to talk to him about his own thoughts regarding the clues he'd found in the game.

Looking tired, Grace sat in the chair next to Eleanor. She'd wanted Duncan to call Amy back… get the latest location for John. Duncan had shaken his head.

"They might be taking him here," Duncan had indicated the line on the map… "or somewhere else. Unlike a bird… I can't fly directly there. I want to be certain of where we are going before we go and what we might be walking into. To that end," he'd held up his PPC.

At one point, noticing a short cryptic email from Phillip, he'd grumbled about the code. Eleanor had reached out and smirked. "He says they liberated six. No names… no locations. He wants to know if you've seen me?"

Duncan snorted. "Tell him yes, and find out where they are."

Eleanor shook her head. "Names and places don't work well in this code. It's too vague. Methos always wanted it vague enough so that no one could crack it,"

Duncan leaned over the table and stared at the map. He'd been entering the coordinates Katya had forwarded on the map… and while nothing was along the line he'd drawn… he was looking at the others. "He must be in Athens. There's something there according to Katya."

"Why Athens?"

"Amanda told me he took the inhabitants of the convent to some island in Greece. He wouldn't leave them unguarded. He wouldn't have gone far."

"Niebos." Ellie chuckled. "It seems all our secret places will be known before this is over."

Duncan pursed his brow and shook his head. "One of these days… you must all come clean and tell me the whole story."

Ellie smiled, laying her cheek on her upraised knees. "Trust… " She smiled. "If we can learn trust… perhaps a future is still possible." Once more, she seemed more with Methos than here.

Duncan nodded thoughtfully, then glanced up as Alisaunne entered.

"We need to go, Duncan."

"We need to know where, first."

"_Ste. Genevieve_." Alisaunne's face almost seemed to glow. "You must take me there… now. From there we can rescue Ian and the others."

"What's at the convent?" Duncan straightened; his mind focused on anything he might have seen there over the years.

"The key to the game." She pointed at the laptops. "Darius' journal is there. I saw it when I was there all those years ago. I knew it looked familiar… but until now… I didn't realize what it was."

"And now you do?"

Alisaunne nodded tearfully. "I saw Uncle Jacques… Darius… writing in it once. He wrote my name on a page… and told me some day… when I was older… I 'd understand."

"Can't that wait?"

Alisaunne shook her head. "It's on the way. If we leave now… we'll be that much closer when the time comes."

"Transportation would be nice. That stolen _Peugeot_ won't work," grumbled Duncan.

"We have the Land Rover," Ellie added.

"Methos' Land Rover?" Duncan stared at her.

Ellie nodded. "It's near here… Derrick and I used it to come to Paris. It'll hold six… maybe seven." She smiled. "I'm small… I don't take up much room."

Duncan straightened thoughtfully. Gazing at the maps he considered the direction that Ellie kept giving for Methos' location… the general direction he was plotting for John's movements… and the location of _Ste. Genevieve_. It seemed out of the way… more east than southeast… but was it?

"Amanda said the Watchers were there. They likely went through the place after she and the others left. It might no longer be there."

"I doubt it would have made an impression on them. It was just one more book in the library," Alisaunne insisted.

Duncan stared at her. "The library?"

She nodded. "The only reason I recall it… is that when I saw it there… I thought it seemed familiar… but until now… I never knew why."

"We have to do something, Duncan," Grace insisted. "I don't want to just wait and then arrive too late. If we go… we will be closer."

"We may also be noticed. It might be better to wait until we know exactly where they are being held. Then move swiftly. If we expose ourselves too soon… we may lose the opportunity."

The cell phone rang. Duncan answered, barking an, "Amy?"

There was a long pause. "_Monsieur_ MacLeod? I am Pierre Gautier, a friend of Joseph Dawson."

Duncan started. "How did you get this number?"

"_Madame_ Meyers. She suggested we speak. Since calls might be monitored… may I suggest a location… a public one… one of your choosing."

"Why?"

There was an audible sigh. "Some of us are attempting to wrest control of our organization from the current power base. Unfortunately, attacks on several facilities and the deaths of several of our number are making this difficult."

"We didn't kill anyone this morning."

"We really need to speak in private."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Joseph and I are old friends. We went through the Academy together. You have no reason to trust me… and with his unfortunate situation… he cannot vouch for me. _Madame_ Meyers knows me. She's stressed by what has happened to Joseph, as well as by the threats to her family. She suggested I speak with you."

"Then talk," Duncan said darkly.

"Not on the phone. I will meet you when and where you say. I will come alone."

Duncan stared out the window at the damaged form of _St. Julien Le Pauvre_. Fire personnel were still milling over the grounds… as if the answers to the sudden explosion in the old church might be found in bits of debris. "Not holy ground… I want to be able to fight back."

"_Exactement_! Of course."

Duncan gave him a time and place and shut the phone off. He met Ellie's quizzical expression. "You said trust a while ago. Maybe this is the first test of that." He faced Grace. "If we can trust them… if they work with us… we'll have a better chance of rescuing John." He looked at Alisaunne. "We'll go to _Ste. Genevieve_. But not yet." He glanced at Derrick, still sitting on the floor. "The journal will wait. The game will wait. We have to focus on our lost friends… or not even the answers in that thing will save any of us."

As Amanda and Cory walked through the door, Duncan smiled at Amanda warmly. "Everyone gather around… I think I have an idea as to how we can work this."

-----

****

Southeastern France

Phillip's face broke into a smile and he chuckled.

"What?" asked Keith. He was still accelerating the van along the highway toward Paris.

"Ease up lad, things are not quite as earnest as I feared. Evidently Eleanor is fine and with the Highlander." He tapped Keith's hand-held computer. "I need to get one of these. This is far better than my old PPC."

Reagan piped up from the rear of the van. "The Highlander? Duncan? Where is he?"

"Paris at the moment. He wants us to meet him if we can. He has an idea of where the others are being held… of where their final destination might be." Then Phillip's brow knotted with worry. "Odd… he seems concerned about Nick."

"Nick? Who's Nick?" Keith asked.

Phillip shook his head. Had something happened on Niebos? Urgently Phillip fired off an urgent email to the island's constable. He suddenly felt like he'd made a major mistake. "I need to make a phone call. This thing wouldn't let me do that would it?"

Keith grinned. "I told Reagan it has _all_ the latest upgrades." He pulled off to the side of the road, reaching for the computer. Swiftly he enabled a program and handed it back with a shrug. "Try it now."

Phillip punched in a number and waited for some time for an answer. There was none. "Damn!" he snapped. He rubbed one hand across his mouth, stroking his chin and beard.

"What's wrong?" Micah asked as he leaned between the seats.

"There's no answer at the house in Athens and there should be." He met the boy's worried gaze. "Something's happened to Denara and Ursa."

Phillip stared into the distance. Paris was closer… but he was likely needed elsewhere. Absently he tapped the computer with a slow thoughtful beat.

MacLeod wanted his assistance in rescuing Methos. But if something had happened to Valeraine and Nick… then any good they might do here would be negated if Nestor found his freedom. "Turn around," he finally told Keith.

"Aren't we joining MacLeod?" Reagan asked.

Phillip stared at the immortals in the back. "If you want to take them onto the rendezvous with MacLeod, Reagan… that's fine. But I have something else I have to do." He looked meaningfully at Micah.

The boy's face paled and he sat back. "You left them to rescue us." He looked at the other three children who likewise understood Phillip's sudden unease. They nodded at Micah, each of them reaching out hands to one another. "We are with you, Swordmaster. We started this together… we will finish it together."

"Same here," Keith said as he shifted into drive to head back onto the highway… his plan was to cross onto the median to make his way to the southern lanes.

"Wait…" Claudia asked in confusion. "Does this mean we're going back there? What about Duncan?"

Phillip lay one hand on Keith's arm. "Anyone who wants out… anyone who wants to go elsewhere is free to do so. If you want to join MacLeod, I'll give you the information and let him know. I, however, need the computer and the van. Time is of the essence."

"I'll take my chances on my own," Robert said. He opened the side door to climb out. "Sword?"

Reagan opened a box and tossed him one. "Hope that'll do."

Robert caught it expertly and lunged in a few practice moves. Then he hid the sword within his coat. "It'll do." He saluted Reagan with fingers to his brow. "My thanks. Until we meet again." He slammed the van door.

"Anyone else for getting out?" Phillip asked.

"I don't want to be alone…"Claudia said, "But I do want to see Duncan."

"I won't lie to you Claudia. You might be better off getting out. We're probably headed into more danger than you can imagine."

Claudia looked at the others who seemed intent on remaining where they were. She rubbed her arms and sniffed. "Well if all of you are remaining, then I suppose I shall as well."

"Then that's that. Head south Keith… toward Marseilles. I need to check into renting a plane."

"Where are we headed?"

Phillip shook his head. "I'd say home… but I have a feeling… it's into the mouth of hell."

Keith smirked, "That's comforting."

Phillip glanced back at the children with a wink, "By Jove I think he's got it!"


	106. Chapter 102

****

Chapter 102

England

Once disgorged from the shuttle tube of the Chunnel, Avril Mischkov had sped through the outlying regions of South London as he headed northwest… toward the city of Liverpool.

He contemplated checking in with Watcher Headquarters here… but then considered what he was about to do. He figured there might be some problems with his intentions toward Amy Meyers' children. For years, Mischkov had been operating basically answerable only to Henry Rawlins. He did not intend to change now.

He'd get in contact once his plan was accomplished. With the children in his hands… one of them anyway… he'd likely kill one as a warning… their mother, her husband, and her _father_… Mischkov still couldn't believe he had missed that piece of information… would do whatever he wished. Already he could see it now… the blood… the limp body… the terror in the eyes of the other child. Mischkov felt himself harden in the sheer pleasure of the thought of a small child's broken body in his hands once more.

He'd let Rawlins and his crusade pull him from his private pursuits. He'd focused instead on restraining his urges by means of the scourge so that he'd not be a weakness that Rawlins' enemies could exploit against the Watcher. But now… he would restrain himself no longer. His hands begged for a child to snap. His body throbbed with the need to release all his pent-up energy into one of them.

Mischkov licked his lips. Soon… very soon… the children would be his. Oh what he'd do to one of them… he didn't know which one yet… would so horrify the family… that they'd be pawns in his hands in their efforts to get the other back. And who knows… Mischkov leered… he might just let the other one go… alive.

-----

Just under two hours later he pulled slowly to a stop outside the modest residence of Laura Ayers-Brennan and parked carefully.

Glancing in the rear view mirror… he smoothed his thinning hair and adjusted his turtleneck collar. He must appear perfect. Tugging at the cuffs of his jacket he shrugged inside it and smiled pleasantly, practicing his greeting.

Once certain that he appeared as he needed to, professional, non-threatening… Mischkov calmly alighted from his vehicle and closed the door. First he'd deal with the two men in the parked car. Easily he strolled up to it and waved… a pleasant smile across his face. "Burt Meyers sent me. I'm your relief." Easily he leaned over the car.

The two men looked at one another and then at Mischkov. "Password?" one of the men asked.

"Ahh… yes… the password." Efficiently Mischkov reached for his Luger and swiftly fired twice… hitting each man between the eyes. As the driver slumped over the seat… the enforcer pushed the body to one side to prevent it from landing on the horn. Mischkov glanced around… concerned that even with a silencer on… the shots might have been heard. But he saw no movement anywhere.

Satisfied for the moment, he crossed the street and rang the bell at the front door of the row house.

He stepped back from the door and held his hands loosely behind him as he gazed about the area… taking in the quiet neighborhood… and the sounds of children's laughter.

The inner door opened and a mature woman of medium height, with salt and pepper hair… a woman who in her youth may have been a great beauty… smiled at him from the other side of the locked outer door. She punched a button and the intercom crackled to life.

"Yes? May I help you?"

Mischkov smiled genially and pushed the button. He leaned to close to it as he said pleasantly, Ms. Ayers-Brennan? I'm Avril Mischkov. Your daughter works for me. I have some information she wanted me to share with you concerning Joseph Dawson."

Laura's face paled slightly. "Has something happened?"

Mischkov smiled and waved a hand diffidently. "I really would prefer to speak to you in person. This information is not for…" he glanced around and then lowered his voice and winked conspiratorially, "… the uninitiated." He straightened and waited.

She looked concerned. Finally Laura unlatched the outer door and held it open. "Come in then. I think I recall Amy mentioning your name."

Mischkov entered with a "You are most kind," on his lips. He followed Laura into the house and passed her as she stood to close the inner door behind them.

"Please Mr. Mischkov… has something happened to Joe?"

She said nothing else as he turned and swiftly fired off a single shot between her eyes from his Luger. She crumpled to the floor… blood pooled about her head. He sighed. Unlike the immortals he'd shot over the years… she was quite dead. He nudged her with one foot to be certain.

His interest was caught by the nearby sound of laughter. Replacing the weapon inside his jacket once more, the enforcer followed the sound to the kitchen and stood at the back door facing the long narrow backyard. Like most English gardens of row houses… it was long, narrow, and surrounded by a tall wooden fence. His activities would not be seen.

The twins were racing about playing tag with one another.

Mischkov observed them a moment as he tried to decide which one to kill and which one would be more fun to keep. Should he gut the little girl in front of her brother's eyes… and then use the boy as he so wanted to. Or should he skin the boy and force his sister to help. Raping a little girl of so young an age was always a real pleasure.

Again he felt himself harden in anticipation. "Slowly," he said. "These things must be done slowly." Yes! It had been so long since he'd last killed a child… he didn't want to rush it. He wanted to relish each moment.

And even though the scene could play out unobserved… it might not go unheard. He'd have to deal with that. Perhaps he should take them both. Mischkov glanced behind him at Laura's body. After all… he'd already left his calling card.

But still… to kill one of them would be ever so lovely… and he could make it a work of art that the parents would never forget. They'd know he meant business. "Eenie... meenie... minie... mo!" he moved one finger back and forth, leering as he did so at the innocence he was ready to brutalize and destroy. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Once more he composed himself. He opened the back door and stepped out into the sunlight. When the children paused in their running… to stare at him, he raised one hand in a gentle wave. It all came back to him. It was like riding a bike. All he had to do was win their trust.

The boy came running up… followed by his shyer sister. "Who are you?" Dawson asked.

"I'm a friend of your mommy's. I work with her," Mischkov said pleasantly and crouched before the small boy. Dawson had chubby cheeks and light brown hair. His knees below his short pants were skinned and bandaged… as was one elbow.

Abigail pulled at her brother's arm. "We're not supposed to talk to strangers," she reminded her brother. Her hair was a darker shade of brown. Two round blue eyes peeked out from beneath long lashes.

"Oh… but I'm not a stranger. I work with Mommy."

"Don't care," Abigail said stomping her foot and pulling her brother back. "Nana said not to talk to strangers."

Dawson was nodding and backing away.

Mischkov smiled. "Your Nana is absolutely right. She's right inside." He stood and held the door open. "Go ask her if you need to be certain."

Abigail watched him warily as she eased inside the door. Dawson shrugged… almost embarrassed by his twin's attitude. He followed his sister.

Mischkov let the screen door close and then closed and locked the back door. He grinned. Time to play.

-----

****

Paris

Pierre Gautier stood easily at the southside of the obelisk in the center of the _Place de la Concorde_, where once the guillotine had stood centuries before… and removed the heads of mortals and… if the Chronicles were correct… a few immortals as well. In his arms were several files.

He was alone… as he'd promised MacLeod. Gautier knew the Highlander had no reason to trust him… no reason to believe anything he might say… so he was determined to do this as the immortal requested.

He knew he did not look threatening. He was, after all, in his seventies. He was portly, his thinning white hair and wire-rimmed spectacles made him look scholarly. He didn't even have his small revolver as a backup. If the Highlander wanted to kill him… he would. But from everything he'd learned from Dawson in recent years, Pierre did not believe he was in any real danger as long as his actions did not threaten the immortal or his people.

One young man approached and grabbed one of his arms. Pierre started to sputter and then recognized Cory Raines. A second young man, tall and sandy-haired and unknown to him took his other arm as the two steered him through the crowd. He went willingly.

Near some souvenir booths he saw him… Duncan MacLeod. The Highlander was wearing dark glasses. A long light coat whipped about him as he faced Gautier. Raines pulled the files from his hands and began to thumb through them. The other young man patted the Watcher down.

He shook his head and backed off.

"So I'm here," MacLeod said evenly.

"_Merci, Monsieur_ MacLeod," Gautier clicked his heels and bowed slightly. "Dawson has spoken to me of your great sense of honor. I…"

"Get on with it," MacLeod interrupted.

"Ahh... _oui_," Gautier reached for the files. Raines shrugged and handed them back to him, then backed away to watch the surrounding crowd. Gautier cleared his throat. "I and others of my era are attempting to re-take the reins of power for our organization. Joseph and I and others became aware some time ago that things were happening that shouldn't have."

"And…" Duncan leaned in threateningly.

Gautier nodded. "Please, _Monsieur_… let me finish." When Duncan nodded, Gautier continued. "Certain of our membership have evidently been convinced that immortals hold the secret to eternal life. To that end… we believe they have been kidnapping and studying immortals for a number of years."

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"_Oui!_" Gautier held out a folder. "When Jacob Kell wiped out the Sanctuaries back in 2002, a vacuum developed in our organization. The Sanctuary project had given us interesting information about the immortals we held for the future… they _were_ volunteers…" he insisted as Duncan's lip curled angrily. "Those records came to the attention of some of our newer, younger members. As we retired and they began to take over the reins of power… the Sanctuary Project became enticing to them." He shook his head. "Evidently they did not ask for volunteers."

Duncan glanced through the papers in the file.

"That is a list of all the special properties where the Sanctuary Project Volunteers were kept… and who they were. A list I think you might already be familiar with."

Duncan peered at him quizzically.

"Yesterday… a facility in northern California was attacked and over a dozen of our personnel were slaughtered. This morning… you and your friends attacked a facility in Paris…"

"No one died!"

Gautier nodded. "_Oui_… that is so. One man… however is severely injured." Gautier touched his throat.

"A few days ago… another of our members was also severely injured by a young woman."

"Get to the point."

Gautier nodded. "This morning… about the same time as the attack in Paris… there were attacks in Taranto, Italy and in Brisbane, Australia. After I spoke with you on the phone, I also learned of an attack on a facility in Beijing. My people… some of them innocent Watchers who have no clue as to what is happening… are dying. It must stop!"

"What about my people?"

Gautier nodded. "Given time… I will locate where they are being held and I will insist they be released."

"That isn't good enough!" snarled Duncan.

"We are not murderers, _Monsieur_… we are historians! Our imperative has always been to watch and record. We do not interfere! Those who have done so will be punished. I assure you!"

"I want my people released… now!"

Gautier's shoulders sagged. "If it were in my power it would have already been done."

"So what's the problem?"

Gautier pulled out a white handkerchief and rubbed it over his sweating brow. "The North American Coordinator is balking. He has lost too many of his people and he insists the immortals responsible for the slaughter of our people in California be avenged. He's evidently got some kill squads operating.

MacLeod's face paled.

"I need to assure the other coordinators that this is not an all-out war! I need to show them that you people are reasonable and that I can end this. To that end…" he paused, waiting. When Duncan nodded, Gautier continued, "I need the young woman who attacked our Watcher at _St. Julien Le Pauvre_ a few days ago and who is apparently the same one who accompanied you this morning when she attacked and injured another one of our people.

"Absolutely not!"

Gautier shook his head. "If I am to show I have leverage with you… you must let me have the woman. I swear to you she will not be harmed!"

"Find… another… way!" Duncan finally managed to utter.

Gautier sighed and rubbed his brow thoughtfully. "I don't know another way. In every negotiation there must be something given by both sides."

"We've already given."

Gautier met the Highlander's dark gaze.

"Our people have been ripped out of their lives by you people. They've been killed, kidnapped, mistreated, raped, used as test subjects for God knows what… We've already given all we are going to. Now… you go back to your people. I want to know where they are being held." He slapped the file against his palm. "I want to know where Methos is. And I want your assistance… or at least your assurance that you will not interfere… in whatever happens.

"And I warn you… if any more immortals die because of this… you will have a war on your hands that makes the last one look like a skirmish. The first thing I'll do is make certain every immortal still living knows about your little secret organization. You've survived so long because no one knows about you. Dawson convinced me not to tell too many other immortals unless I trusted them. Now… I'll tell them all… even the ones I don't trust."

"But… but… but immortals will turn on us. People will die!"

"_People _are already dying!"

Gautier nodded. This was not going as he'd hoped. Not only that… but MacLeod was not the man Dawson had described to him. This man was dangerous!

"Further… if anything… and I mean anything… happens to Joe Dawson or to any members of his family… I'll personally be looking you and the other coordinators up!"

"I assure you _Monsieur_… nothing will!" Gautier clicked his heels and bowed.

"You better make certain of that. Now get out of here before I decide I need something else."

"Of course," Gautier turned and scuttled across the plaza. When he turned to look over his shoulder, neither the Highlander nor his two companions were anywhere to be seen.


	107. Chapter 103

-----**WARNING**----- _There is an "ick" factor to a section near the end of this chapter. If there is a problem... let me know and I will remove it or edit it. Suffice it to say... that one of the villains is going to have a rough time... and then strike back._ --elle

Chapter 103

Athens

Denara gasped for air… tasting seawater. She was on a bed… and her hands and feet were tied.

"She's awake!"

The voice was the one of her "mother" from the hospital. The woman sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over the struggling child.

"You can't get loose Denara. We've made certain of that. Now relax and promise not to scream and I'll remove the gag so we can talk like civilized people."

Denara wished her eyes could shoot blades. She wanted to kill this mewling woman. Instead she nodded. She wanted the wet gag out of her mouth.

The woman removed it. "My name is Anita. I am not your enemy little one. Indeed… I want to know you better."

"Then let me go!"

"I cannot do that. Not at this time. You are needed for an important study."

"Study? Is that what you call attacking us and killing my friends?"

Anita sat back. "Their deaths are regrettable. Ursa was too big for us to handle. We could not subdue him. His death is a loss to us all."

"You have no idea!" Denara hissed. "I needed him! Only he could stop what is happening."

"Child…"

"I am not a child!" Denara screamed. She fought against the hands on her and the attempt to re-gag her.

"Denara… Listen to me. There are those who want me to order your death. I won't… as long as you cooperate."

Denara stopped struggling. She had to get this woman to understand. "What do you want?"

"That's better." Anita said with a smile. "Now then… We need to know where the immortal who directed the battle on Niebos is?"

"Why?"

Anita took a deep breath. Finally she smiled. "He's a very good fighter."

Denara nodded. "He's the Swordmaster."

"The Swordmaster? The one who teaches you?"

Denara shrugged. "If we are worthy of his attention."

Anita sat back, her brows knotted in thought. "Does he have a name?"

Denara smiled. "He has many names. We small ones simply call him the Swordmaster."

"How old is he?"

Denara shrugged. "I don't know. Older than me."

"Did he ever mention knowing anyone… say Xerxes or Agamemnon… or Alexander?"

Denara's eyes widened at the last name. She bit her lip.

"Alexander?"

Denara said nothing.

Anita sat back. She turned to her companion. "There were some old Chronicle entries about an immortal who once introduced himself to enemies as 'The Swordmaster of Alexander the Great'. Get on the phone to Paris and have them check through the files."

"_Quid pro quo_," Denara said.

Anita smiled. "I beg your pardon?"

"I gave you something. Now you give me something."

"And what would you like?" amusement fluttered about her lips.

"Take me to Niebos and let me go."

Anita chuckled. "I can't do that."

"You have to!" Denara tried to sit up.

"Explain!"

Denara collapsed back on the bed… her mind attempting to determine how much she should tell this woman. Could she trust this woman with the knowledge of Nestor's existence? What would these Watchers do if they found him? Would they understand not to kill him?

"You have to let me go. Something has gone wrong there. It's why Ursa wanted to get back there."

Anita looked at her quizzically.

"Call it something I learned when I took his quickening. He was being called back to Niebos despite the danger. He was likely the only one who could have stopped what is happening there. Your attacks there have unleashed an ancient evil."

Anita laughed. "Of course they did." She patted Denara's arm and made to leave.

"You have to believe me! Nestor is free!"

The name Nestor caused Anita to freeze in her steps and turn back to regard the small immortal restrained on the bed. "Nestor? He's been dead for centuries."

Denara shook her head soberly. "He's not dead. We were hiding him."

"Why not kill him?"

"Dark quickening," Denara said, defeated for the moment. "He has a dark quickening. Any of us who kill him succumb to his evil."

"Dark quickenings are myth." Anita turned to go once more.

"Duncan MacLeod had one!"

Anita paused.

Denara licked her lips. "Check his Chronicles if you don't believe me. Check with Paris! Duncan told me what it was like a few years ago when he came to see us. He wanted us to understand why it was so important that none of us kill Nestor."

"How bad can it be. MacLeod obviously overcame the one he had."

"Nestor is worse… and far, far older. His quickening consumes the new host body and eats away at the host's strength until nothing is left. If MacLeod hadn't been helped by the doctor… if he'd gone on much longer… he would have been lost to his as well."

Anita laughed Denara's words off with a shake of one hand.

"You _must_ believe me! Why would I lie?"

"In an attempt to win your freedom, perhaps?"

"There is that… but Nestor is a threat not only to us… but also to you. If anyone takes his head… he'll find a new host. He might even survive to be reborn in a new immortal."

Anita chuckled. "Now I know you're lying. There are no new immortals. The last of you has been born."

Denara sighed deeply. "That may be so…" After all she'd met the strange Alisaunne years ago and recognized the slight difference in the way the girl had felt. She likely _was_ the last of the immortals to be born into this world to play the game. "But if any evil could find a way to continue… it is Nestor."

"And you think he's free."

Denara nodded. It was the only thing that made sense in Ursa's need to return there.

Anita patted Denara's leg. "I'll talk to my superiors."

"Please… you have to let me go there. I may be the only chance to discover who or what he's hiding in!"

Anita paused, her hand on the door to the hall. "I said I would consider it. Gag her again," she said to one of the stern-faced men remaining in the room.

"Why not just drug her?"

"She may not be a child… but she's so small… the drugs might be too strong for her system. I'm not willing to risk losing her. Rawlins wants a child for his experiment."

Denara struggled against the gag. "No! You have to listen…" The rest of her words were lost behind the gag.

She screamed her indignity as loudly as she could… hearing only a dull gasp. The wet gag was shoved deeply down her throat and secured. She couldn't breathe! Darkness hovered. Death claimed her for the fourth time this day.

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Henry Rawlins's behavior was growing increasingly erratic… and it had not gone unnoticed. Rawlins was yelling at personnel, slamming doors, and throwing objects in his frustrations.

The elevator doors opened and Wilderman noted a woman… thin… haggard… hollow-eyed… dressed in filthy, ill-fitting clothes… being shoved from it roughly and dragged into the office. The men escorting her quickly closed the door and stood guard. Occasionally they flinched as if hearing something they did not like.

The sounds of blows and screams eventually erupted from the office. Then all was quiet. Wilderman shook his head. This was not good. If his boss was insane… then how long before Rawlins turned on all of them.

-----

"You've let your fabled looks go my dear," Rawlins oozed charm and power over Meaghann. He roughly rubbed his hands over her. "You look terrible! Why do I keep you around?"

Meaghann spit.

He backhanded her with a grin. "That's right… you swore you could get MacLeod for me. Guess what? It's been years! Has he called you? Evidently you didn't do your job. And if you didn't do your job… perhaps we should end our relationship." He forced her to her knees and blew on her face. "Unless you can convince me of why I should keep you here."

He unzipped his trousers.

Meaghann nodded. He closed his eyes and waited. Meaghann began as always… and as always he was amazed at that woman's tongue… the things she could do. Rawlins let out a ragged breath and felt his tension raise his senses to new heights… then…

He howled in pain! She'd bit him! The bitch had bit him! Blood spurted and smeared her grinning mouth. She looked for a moment like some harpie of mythology feasting on the innards of men who'd died in battle!

He leaped back and attempted to staunch the blood with his hands!

Meaghann collapsed on the floor… laughing hysterically and pointing at him!

Suddenly her laughter hurt more than the actual bite. He roared his anger and began to beat her about the face… again and again.

Still she laughed and cackled as if she'd finally found an escape!

He picked up a heavy ashtray and pounded it into her grinning face until there was nothing but bloody pulp. Then he ripped her filthy shirt from her thin body to use as a bandage. He settled in a chair and shuddered as the full horror of what she'd dared to do to him began to take its toll. His pants were sodden. The shirt was soaked.

He reached for the intercom. "Send Dr. Romney up."

He settled back in the chair and lifted the wadded up shirt and then clamped down once more. There was a mad light in his eyes and a sickly sheen on his face.

At a knock on the door a few moments later… he called out. "Who is it?"

A weak voice replied, "Claire Romney, Mr. Rawlins… you sent for me."

Rawlins grinned with a nod. "Come in my dear and close the door." Perhaps he could still salvage something from this horror.

Claire entered and gasped at the sight of Meaghann's body. She stared fearfully at Rawlins. He smiled. "I've had a little accident and need some medical attention."

Claire swallowed nervously and stepped over the bloodied corpse to approach him. She knelt down.

He lifted the shirt. "As you can see… I have a problem… Discretion is most important. Can you help me."

Claire's eyes widened. "I… I'll need my bag."

Rawlins hit the intercom. "Herve'… get Dr. Romney's medical bag."

A few moments later there was another knock at the door. Claire rose and opened it slightly to get her bag.

She adjusted the desk lamp and knelt once more. "I'll need to give you a tetanus shot… and something to kill the pain while I stitch you up."

Rawlins shook his head. "No shots. I can bear the pain and the tetanus shot can wait." He feared she might give him something to knock him out. As tired as he was… it wouldn't take much.

She pulled out some alcohol preps… ripped them open and began to swab him. "This will sting."

Rawlins hissed.

Then Claire opened a suture kit. "Are you certain you don't want something?"

"Just do it!" He gritted his teeth and shook with each suture. Tears stung his eyes.

"You'll need some ice."

He pointed to a pitcher beaded with sweat.

She immersed a hand and grasped ice cubes, which she wrapped in the bloody shirt. Then she pressed it to him. He sighed and closed his eyes. He held the crude icepack to him with one hand and with the other toyed with a lock of Claire's hair that had fallen free. "Lovely hair color, my dear."

Claire attempted to pull back.

He wadded his hand in her hair and restrained her. "I think I need some additional clean-up."

She nodded. "Whatever you want, sir. I'll get some towels and hot water from…"

"No."

Claire looked at him quizzically.

He lifted the ice pack and pushed her face between his legs. "Just lick it up." He held her there until finally she began to do as he asked. Rawlins sighed. In spite of everything… he was still the one in control… the one in power… and the bitch would do what he wanted.


	108. Chapter 104

****

Chapter 104

Niebos

Nestor had discovered it was difficult to get around as he was. It was difficult to kill effectively. It was difficult to devour his victims. Difficult… but not impossible. Years spent listening to the sounds around him had helped him to identify water lapping on the shore… footsteps of children… men… women… small animals. He'd learned that even without teeth… he could manage to rip flesh and swallow.

The one thing he couldn't be certain of, however, was if there was a blood trail leading to his hiding place. He'd flung himself in the water to wash after each set of pleasures. Yet still he did not know for certain if someone had seen… or if someone was even now out to find him.

If they killed him… he would rise again as he had before. He was the terror of the nightmare! He was the darkness at the foot of the bed! He was death incarnate!

His bride was still beyond his influence… and the girl child who'd looked after this host body was still unfelt. She would know. She would come. He had to be certain he forced her hand. He knew she'd know what killing him meant for her… he had to arrange it somehow that she'd have no other choice.

He rocked back and forth in the hole he'd found and thought of all the things he might do to force her hand. He could still recall the looks she'd given him long ago… when he'd been in that other body… Barak's body. He cackled. She'd known even as she approached him. He'd seen her understanding of what he was and let her run away. That day she'd chosen to survive. This time… he had to be certain she did not run… that she'd stop him.

Nestor hummed. He was so ready to walk on two feet again. He wanted to gnaw on a bone and rip flesh from it. He wanted to see the darkness… and revel in its power.

From some distance he could hear shouts and screams of horror. His victims had been found. All but one. He reached back and fondled the unconscious toddler. She was his way out of this prison! The infernal child would never stand by and let him kill the child. All he had to do was wait until he felt her come for him. The problem would be if the mortals found him first, especially if they knew how to truly kill him. Surely not! And even then… he'd find another way. His darkness and his evil were too intense and too powerful to be lost. He'd return… more powerful than before. The toddler whimpered. Nestor slapped her until she shivered under his palm and was quiet.

The voices were closer. Holding the knife in his mouth… he rammed it again through his healed palm… grimacing only slightly at the momentary pain. He was ready… for whatever awaited him.

-----

Constable Nikos Paransetti sat at the side of the girl's bed and waited for her to awaken. Doctor Andros had said it should be soon. He'd had a message from the _patron_… a message that had filled him with horror.

Then the bodies of the coroner, the old man, Stephanos, and three of the four children of Maria Akinos had been found… as well as the bodies of several small animals. All had been brutally butchered. Most residents were walled up in their homes. The children, especially, had been sequestered. Parties of men were patrolling… seeking the culprit.

And then the email had arrived. Phillip's message asked after the girl Valeraine and her patient. Then it asked if there had been any odd occurrences or murders on the island. Nikos had swallowed in fear. He'd just left the scene of the children's' murder. He feared he would never eat again.

The widow Kapikos was screaming that they had angered the old gods who had protected them for all these years! Someone had broken faith with them and spoken the unspoken. Nikos had shaken his head at first… now… he waited for the child to awaken.

-----

Valeraine slowly opened her eyes. Nikos, the island magistrate looked at her somberly.

"He's begun killing, hasn't he?" Her voice rasped through her partially healed vocal chords. Her throat still hurt.

"Yes," Nikos whispered with a nod. "Children. He kills small children."

Valeraine nodded and sat up… she still felt a little woozy from the drugs. Nikos helped her to her feet.

"The _patron_ has messaged me. He says for me to assist you in whatever you must do. He is on his way… but it will be some time."

Valeraine nodded and glanced about… finally seeing a small stack of folded clothes that had been provided. She stumbled toward them and picked them up.

"I will have the nurse assist you," Nikos said. He rose and left. A few moments later, a teary-eyed young woman entered to help her dress.

They'd found boy's clothes for her… pants, a light shirt… socks, and sneakers. When she was dressed she quickly pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail and secured it. She glanced around the hospital room. She swallowed, noting how much that hurt as well, "I need my sword," she managed to whisper. The nurse nodded.

"Nikos?" the nurse called out as she left.

Nikos returned with Valeraine's small sword in his hand. He held it out to her.

Valeraine took it gratefully. "Listen to me carefully. If I have to kill him… if I have to cut off his head… you have to lock me up. Don't listen to anything I try to tell you… Shoot me… several times if you have to… but then lock me up. You must promise me that you will lock my body up somewhere and watch over me until Phillip comes.

"I promise," Nikos said. "You are one of the children of the old gods… yes?"

Valeraine nodded. It was as good an explanation as she'd ever heard. "Now show me the killing ground."

They'd had the dogs searching… but after yelps and the deaths of several of them… the owner had been told to take the rest of them home.

Valeraine bit her lip as she lifted the bloodied sheets to stare at the corpses of the children. Tears sprang to her eyes. She dropped the sheets and stood… trying to sense him. How far could he go? How could he manage? She stepped to the water's edge… following the blood trail. He wouldn't have stayed in the water. He couldn't have stayed afloat.

She waded slowly out to get the feel of the tide. Closing her eyes she listened… concentrating as he must have concentrated… trying to hear what he could not see… a place to hide.

She strode back to the shore. "Are there any caves on this side of the island?"

Nikos nodded. "Yes. Small hollows that begin about a half mile up the beach."

"Then that's where he's likely gone. Let's go." Her voice was still raspy and speaking still hurt. She couldn't remember having had to deal with pain for a long time.

Together she and Nikos strode along the beach. The rest of the search party hung back a distance at the magistrate's direction.

When Valeraine sensed him, she paused. "Remember what I told you. If I have to kill him… you must lock me away. No matter what."

"I understand."

"If you don't… more will die."

Nikos nodded.

Valeraine hefted her sword in one hand and a gun in the other. Nikos had a high-powered rifle and an axe. He slung the rifle along one arm and hefted the axe in the other. He was as ready as he would ever be.

Valeraine crept closer to the caves. She could feel him now… dark and cold… negative energy… as strong as he'd been so many years ago when she'd first felt him… when he'd held a knife at Marie-France's throat and taunted Valeraine to kill him.

"_Oh Nick_…" she thought… "_Does anything of you remain? Can I still reach you_?"

The cold at the entrance of the fourth cave made her pause. He was there. Deep in the shadows of the hollow he waited.

Valeraine closed her eyes and tried to visualize him… hear him. Finally she did… the low cackle of Nestor came clearly from the cave… as did the sudden wail of a child.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared at Nikos.

"One child was not found. We assumed he'd simply disposed of the body elsewhere."

Valeraine nodded and closed in. She entered the shadows of the cave. She could hear the child wailing loudly now. Nikos followed her. Valeraine paused to let her eyes adjust. Nestor's blindness could be an asset to him in here.

Walking on the balls of her feet… she tried not to splash in the tidal pools that were scattered about the cavern floor.

The cackle was ahead of her… and the wail.

Valeraine turned carefully… peering into the shadows.

Then she saw him.

He was straddling the child. Leaning over it and stroking it with his bladed palm. Small streaks of blood oozed from the shallow cuts he'd made.

"Stop it Nick! Listen to me!" Valeraine felt like crying.

He raised his head and cackled. Slowly he ran the knife over the wailing child again.

"Stop it Nick! I mean it!"

He cackled again and shook his head as if enjoying this.

Valeraine realized there was likely nothing of Nick left by this time. There was only the old evil. Dark and deadly cold it flowed about the ruin of the man she loved.

She fired the automatic.

He flinched and howled and kept slicing at the child… ever more deeply.

Val fired again.

Again he flinched… but kept up his attention on the child.

Then he lowered his face and began to run his mouth over the infant.

Nikos fired. Again the immortal evil cackled and bit the child lifting it in his mouth as he attempted to tear flesh off.

Valeraine caught Nikos' attention as she raised her sword tearfully. "Remember your promise!"

Nikos lowered his rifle. He nodded.

Valeraine rushed Nestor and rammed her sword into his back. He flinched upward and roared… slowly turning and pulling her sword with him. She pulled it back. As soon as she did so… he raised his bladed palm to slice the child's throat.

She had no other choice. Tearfully she raised her sword. "Goodbye Nick! I love you still!" In one firm stroke she brought her blade down… and then awaited the cold darkness that she knew was coming.

-----

Phillip raced from the helicopter. It had been a long series of flights. First the chartered one from Marseilles to Rome. Then the charter from Rome to Athens… and then the chopper hop to Niebos. The others followed in his wake. He strode amongst his people all welcoming him home… all wanting to tell him about what had happened. Phillip had eyes only for the magistrate's office and pushed through the crowd.

Inside he found Nikos, staring at the single cell the island boasted. It wasn't much… but then they had little crime here… and what they had was generally not serious.

Nikos turned to face Phillip. His face pale. He bowed to his landlord. Phillip pushed past him.

In the cell was Valeraine huddled on the floor and talking to herself.

"She killed the monster, _patron_. But now she is possessed. She says things… she does things … she asks me to do things … these things are monstrous and evil. I shudder at what she offers." Nikos shook his head. "What was this evil? Was it the devil?"

Phillip nodded. "As near to the devil as you'd ever hope to meet Nikos. I need to be alone with her now."

Nikos nodded and left eagerly.

Phillip stood beside the bars. "I'm so sorry lass."

Valeraine looked up at him and leered. "I'm not!" Her voice was still raspy… but there was a deadly tone to it now.

She shook her head and roared. "Swordmaster? Are the small ones safe?"

"Aye, lass, they are."

"Then it was worth it, my sacrifice?"

Tears filled Phillip's eyes. "Aye, lass. You did well."

Valeraine lowered her head and then leaped at the bars, clasping them as she wriggled suggestively. "Oooh lover… come to me now. Am I not once more beautiful to behold? And the things I can do with this body! Why… you'd be amazed." She stuck her tongue out and lapped at the steel even as she ripped her clothes and made obscene gestures with her hands. Then she cackled.

"Leave her be Nestor. I won't let her be hurt."

"You cannot stop me… none of you can. One by one… until the end of time… you will all be mine. You will be lost in me. I am the darkness!" She flung herself to the cell floor and began to writhe suggestively as she fondled herself. "Join me lover! With your power… we will rule the world! With you… my bride will at last be wholly mine!"

Phillip turned away heartsick for the loss of this child… and for the loss of all the children Nestor had devoured over the centuries… Barak, Marie-France, Nick Wolfe… and now Valeraine. How much longer could he let this go on? He stepped out into the fading sunlight. "Watch her Nikos… I will return shortly to take care of her." He walked slowly up the hill toward his ravaged villa. Around him gathered the small ones and the others. They were silent… and feared what he might have to do next.


	109. Chapter 105

_A reviewer wants to know: _Sometimes you frighten me with the violence and grotesque things you think of. I wonder what could make you go there?

_Honestly folks... there is nothing in my personal life that is anything like this. I have always read books and watched films... and dissected both since I was very young. I have always created my own stories and characters based on the flaws I've seen and read about. As I may have mentioned during "**The Shattered Soul**" I have always felt that there are real monsters far more deadly than the ones created in fiction. My villains are as based on what I read in the news as much as those from books and film. When the time comes for the villain to be unmasked in fiction... he must be truly deadly... so that the hero's sacrifice and dedication are truly worthy._

_Now... back to our story... -_-elle

--------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 105**

**Liverpool**

Burt slammed on the brakes as his car pulled in front of Laura's home. She'd moved here just after re-marrying a few years ago. Then Graham had suddenly died last spring of a stroke. Laura had seemed to take it in stride and had simply concentrated on her life and her grandchildren.

Burt wasn't especially close to her, nor Amy any longer, but they were fond of her.

Burt jerked open his car door and slammed it behind him. He'd noted the car parked carefully… precisely within the lines of the parking space, unlike his own.

It had Paris tags.

Just beyond it was another car. Glancing at the front seat… Burt saw his two dead men.

He pulled his gun and raced across the street and up to the glassed outer door. He peered through… but was unable to see any movement. Vaguely, he recalled that Laura had a silent alarm system on this place. Swinging around… he kicked soundly at the door and the glass shattered. That should bring the authorities! Burt stepped through the opening… his gun held before him.

At the solid wood inner door… he tested the knob… relieved to feel it turn in his hand. If he were wrong about Mischkov's being here… he'd explain to Laura… and pay for the damages. Gently he opened the door.

It met resistance.

Burt peeked around the edge and saw Laura's body on the floor. He also saw the blood. Shoving the door against her… he opened it further and eased in… his gun aimed before him as he crouched defensively.

Silence!

Burt strained to hear anything… then stepped cautiously over Laura's body. At the muffled sound of a cry… he turned.

There in the archway to the parlor stood Mischkov… a struggling Abigail gripped tightly in his arms. He had one hand over her mouth and a gun pointed at the child's head. Abigail's eyes were widened in stark terror. She trembled and kicked futilely against her captor.

Burt aimed.

Mischkov leered and tightened his finger on the trigger. He chuckled and licked the side of Abigail's face with his tongue… his mad eyes never leaving Burt's.

"Where's my son?" Burt shouted. In the distance he thought he could hear sirens.

Mischkov shrugged slightly with an amused expression.

Burt cricked his head and fired… praying that his aim was true… that all the time he'd spent on firing ranges and his knowledge of human anatomy would prevent Mischkov's ability to fire off a shot.

A bloody hole appeared in the center of the Watcher's forehead. His eyes glazed over as the blood began to dribble down. Behind him on the wall… Burt saw a spray of blood as the back of the man's skull exploded.

Mischkov's face went slack… as did his arms. Burt reached forward to grab Abigail away from the dead man. He held her sobbing form in his arms as Mischkov's body sank slowly to the floor.

Outside the sirens wailed.

Officers hit the opening of the shattered door. Burt raised his gun hand and surrendered. He closed his eyes and held his daughter tightly as she clung to him in sheer terror and relief… her tortured cries tearing into his soul.

-----

The Liverpool police remained cautious as they approached the surrendering man. He gave them his gun and closed his eyes as he held on to the screaming child. They pulled her away from him and forced him to his knees his hands behind his head.

Yelling at him, they examined the other bodies.

"Please," the man said urgently. "Find my son!"

At about the same time, a female officer yelled from another room. "I've another one!"

The man attempted to rise and was pushed down. His hands were handcuffed. His identity papers were pulled from his pocket.

"Mr. Meyers?" the sergeant asked. "Mr. Burt Meyers?"

Meyers nodded toward Laura's body. "That's my mother-in-law. This man broke in and was holding my daughter. I shot him. My son?" He looked around.

The little girl wriggled free of the officer holding her and raced toward her father… throwing her arms about his neck and screaming, "Daddy!"

The female officer returned to the hallway, a boy's unconscious body in her arms. A huge lump, already turning black was on his otherwise pale forehead.

"Is he?" Meyers asked fearfully.

"He's alive… but he likely has a severe concussion. Call for the EMT's!" she barked to her sergeant as she lay the boy on the floor next to his handcuffed father.

"Dawson," Meyers managed to say. "Dawson… can you hear me?"

The sergeant uncuffed him. "Don't make any sudden moves, sir."

Meyers nodded and, with one arm about his terrified daughter, leaned over his son to brush his light brown hair away from his eyes. Then he sobbed.

The sergeant looked away as he called in his requests for an ambulance and the coroner. "It's messy," he said curtly into his two-way.

-----

Burt was allowed to accompany Dawson to the hospital. He held tightly to Abigail as the emergency room personnel checked the boy over and ordered tests.

Others came to take Abigail from him.

She screamed and clutched to him tightly.

"Baby… I'll be right here. You need to go with the nurses so that the doctors can be certain you're okay."

Anna continued to shake her head and sob, "No!"

Burt finally pulled her loose and held her out from him. "I have to go with Dawson. I won't be far. As soon as they know you're fine… they'll bring you back to me." He looked at the nurse for confirmation. She nodded. "See, Baby… they just want to help."

Within him he worried if Abigail would ever be all right… or if this experience had scarred her forever. He waved as the nurse carried her away… then he followed Dawson to the MRI chamber. He stood outside watching with worried eyes the still small form of his unconscious son.

"Mr. Meyers," a plainclothes officer said. "Once your children are settled, we need a statement from you."

Burt nodded. Then a thought forced it's way into his skull and would not leave. "Mischkov's body… where is it?"

"Downstairs at the morgue," the officer said.

Burt nodded. He'd have to manage to get down there. There was one more thing he needed to do… for his own peace of mind… even if it meant the police locked him away.

-----

As darkness gathered outside… Burt sat by the bedside of his unconscious son. Abigail lay sleeping in his lap. She was fine physically… although the doctors were suggesting trauma counseling. Burt had nodded… he agreed.

He'd called Amy to tell her the children were fine. That he'd gotten there in time… at least to save their lives. His wife had sobbed over the phone. "I'll bring them home, soon, Amy. Just as soon as they let me go. Just take care of Joe… and the others."

He caressed his still trembling daughter and stared at the monitors beeping around his son. The concussion was a severe one. He might have brain damage. There was quite a bit of swelling and bleeding on the brain. Only time would determine if the boy woke up… and if he'd be all right.

Burt glanced at the officer keeping guard in the hallway. The man was talking to a nurse. His attention on her, and not on Burt.

He leaned down and kissed Abigail as he shifted her off his lap. Rising… he kissed Dawson and then… while the guard's attention was elsewhere… he slipped out of the room and into the dimly lit stairwell. Swiftly he descended the stairs to the basement and raced through the corridors toward the morgue. He slammed open the double doors and shivered for a moment in the cold.

The attendant dropped his cup of coffee. "What? What do you want?"

Burt grabbed him. "Which one is Mischkov?"

The attendant fumbled for clipboard. "Num… number B7," finally got out.

Burt glanced around the room. Grabbing a bone saw from a nearby table he slowly approached the bank of small doors. He opened B7 and stood to one side the saw lifted in defense.

The slab opened. Burt swallowed nervously and gingerly reached to unzip the black body bag.

"The man is dead. His brains were blown out!" the attendant yelled as he picked up his phone to call for help.

"I know," Burt said behind his gritted teeth. "I shot him."

Mischkov's eyes were open. They stared unseeing at Burt. His face betrayed no cognizance. Already Burt could hear footsteps. He didn't know how long it took for the immortals to revive. Burt Meyers knew he'd never get this close again.

He positioned the bone saw over Mischkov's neck and began to maneuver it back and forth as he pressed all his weight onto it. He heard the spine snap even as a guard sprang through the doors.

"Put that down!" the guard barked.

Burt pushed harder until the head was completely separated from the body. There was no quickening… but then… there wouldn't be. Not unless another immortal was present. Burt sighed and lifted his hands. "That's for Laura… and Joe… and Amy… and my children. That's for all the people you've murdered," he hissed and spit at Mischkov's corpse even as he allowed his arms to be pulled behind him and handcuffs once more placed on his wrists.

"You are one sick son-of-a-bitch!" the attendant snapped as he pulled the bone saw from Mischkov's neck.

Burt nodded. "Yeah…" He did not fight as he was led away. Mischkov was truly dead. Not even an immortal could survive that. The monster was dead… and Burt would pay the price for making certain of it. _The main thing_… he thought as he was led away… _my children are safe now!_

-----

****

Paris

Amy sobbed with relief after Burt's phone call. She stood by the window of Joe's room and tearfully stared at the darkening evening sky. _My children are safe!_

At the soft sound of movement behind her she turned. The monitors beeped steadily. Then one of them beeped slightly faster as Joe lifted his head and looked around.

Amy rushed to him. "Take it easy, Dad… everything's all right."

Joe's rheumy eyes met hers. He licked his lips. Amy reached for the jar of spring water and offered him some. He drank thirstily and then lay back.

"Burt called. The children are fine." Amy said with a smile as she caressed his face.

"Laura?" Joe whispered.

Amy's shoulders sagged and tears sprang to her eyes. She shook her head.

Joe closed his eyes and shuddered.

"Just rest, Dad… You have to get better. Dawson and Abigail will need their grandfather. Do you hear me?"

Joe nodded and then took a deep breath. Slowly he breathed it out. He smiled. "Doesn't burn so much anymore."

"I should have known, Dad. You are one tough old bird!"

Joe smiled. "Damn straight!" Then his face became somber. "Mac and the others?"

"We're working on that," Amy answered him. "We're working on it."


	110. Chapter 106

****

Chapter 106

__

Ste. Genevieve

By dark, Duncan was pulling the _Land Rover_ into the deserted grounds of the darkened convent. After his talk with Gautier… they'd piled swiftly into the vehicle and driven from Paris.

Amanda had driven first… Duncan in the passenger set. In the rear seat… Grace, Alisaunne and Ellie huddled… making room for Cory when he climbed in beside them. Derrick had climbed into the cargo area… his long legs rammed against his chest. He'd pulled the cargo door closed and leaned back as Amanda had hit the accelerator.

While Gautier had appeared to be alone… Duncan was not taking any chances. He also feared that their location at the grove might have been compromised, despite Ellie's assurance that no one could get in there.

"I'll meet with Gautier along with Cory and Derrick." Duncan had explained over Ellie's objection about involving the boy. "Then we head to _Ste. Genevieve_." He smiled at Alisaunne. "You're right… it's on the way. We have to head east anyway according to Ellie's sense of Methos and…" he smiled at Grace… "the general direction of John's signal. If we hear anything from Amy's people on his location… we'll head there…" He'd glanced back at Alisaunne, who was obviously ready to argue. "Ian is likely with John."

At that the girl's shoulders had sagged and she'd nodded. "We have to save Ian, and the others. Our people must be saved. They must not be lost... not now," she'd whispered. Ellie and Grace had hugged her… the three women united in their need to find the men they loved. Duncan had met Amanda's eyes and smiled warmly at her. When this was over… the two of them would have to sit down with Methos and Ellie for a long talk. He just hoped they had the chance.

"We will save them!" he'd reiterated as they'd peeled off. He'd fired off emails to Katya and everyone else as he read through the files that Gautier had given him. "Hold… no more killing unless absolutely necessary!" Then he'd sent out all the precise coordinates of locations of the Watcher facilities to them from the files. These were more precise than the ones Katya had. "Pass the word to everyone you know! Let's check these places out!"

There was, however, no set of coordinates along the line he'd drawn on the map. If Ellie's sense of Methos was correct… and Duncan had no reason to doubt it… then this Rawlins had another facility somewhere… one he'd kept hidden from all the Watcher records. They needed to change location anyway and find it with triangulation… or hope that John's transponder was not found… and that he was being taken to the same location.

Duncan looked about the deserted convent with a great deal of worry. While there was no sign of life here… he still felt uneasy about being on holy ground… where if something happened… he and the others might find themselves helpless.

He turned the ignition off. "Alisaunne… you're with me," he ordered as he climbed out. "Amanda… be ready to get out of here. The rest of you wait here." He rammed the bolt on his automatic as if to emphasize how deadly this might prove.

He clasped Alisaunne's hand as they headed toward the main building and the convent library. Once inside she flicked on the flashlight and led Duncan into the library. She ran the light over the shelves.

She dropped his hand as he stood looking about… worried that an attack would be forthcoming… that the light or the sound of the _Land Rover_ had alerted someone to their presence. The light might draw forth anyone keeping an eye on the place. But he'd decided to chance it. Without light… he doubted they would find the book. If the Watchers revealed themselves here… maybe they could still get out of here without their enemies following them. He could only hope.

Alisaunne moved slowly toward the shelves. Her fingers caressed the bindings as she moved along them… Duncan could hear her reading names and titles. Finally she stopped. She smiled and pulled a leather-bound book from the shelf.

It was over-sized… and the cover was worn and scratched. She opened it and nodded. "This is it." She closed it and hugged it to her chest.

"Let's go," Duncan said as Alisaunne turned off the flashlight. He pushed her ahead of him into the hall and headed back to the entrance. Once there, he held onto her shoulder as they peered into the courtyard at the waiting vehicle. "Make for the _Rover_. Don't stop no matter what."

"What about…?" she began.

"No matter what!" Duncan repeated. Then he patted her back as a signal to go. She stepped through the door and he followed.

Within moments… shots rang out and bullets peppered the ground near their feet.

Duncan raised the automatic and began firing in the direction of the flash as Alisaunne raced toward the vehicle. Amanda had slid over into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition.

Cory fired from his window… laying down a withering stream of fire as Grace opened the rear door and pulled Alisaunne in. Amanda shifted into drive and circled about to get Duncan who leaped into the _Rover_… all the while firing away.

As the _Rover_ raced from the grounds… Duncan grinned as he had a momentary flashback to the 1920's and Cory's and Amanda's days as Bonnie and Clyde type gangsters. Some habits never die. And this time, Duncan grinned… he got to ride shotgun.

Amanda weaved into the vineyards and floored the accelerator as she ran down a group of men attempting to fire on them. An explosion went off next to the vehicle and she swerved. Another went off to the right.

"Damn! There goes a tire!" she cried out as the flopping noise of the tire could be heard through the interspersed gunfire.

"Keep driving!" Duncan yelled and kept firing at the gunflashes.

"Mackie-boy… you shoulda relaxed and had more fun way back when!" Cory laughed as he ducked some bullets ricocheting off the car.

"Everybody's a critic!" Duncan groused and fired again. "I'm out!" he ejected the clip and reached for the extra from Ellie. He slammed it in and began firing once more.

By this time… Amanda had reached the road. "I can't go too fast… the tire!" she yelled.

"Just keep moving!" Duncan aimed at the vehicle pulling onto the road and shot at the tires. "Sauce for the gander!" he yelled as Cory gave him a thumb's up and did the same to the vehicle pulling out on his side of the road.

Amanda floored the accelerator and kept moving until the sounds of bullets faded into the night. "We need to change that tire," she yelled, "before we have real problems."

"Up ahead," said Duncan as he and Cory reloaded again.

Amanda pulled off the road. Derrick leaped out of the rear and pulled the spare tire off the cargo door… the tire jack already in his hand. Cory and Duncan stood guard over him while the boy focused on changing the tire as quickly as he could in the dark. "Done!" Derrick yelled and climbed back into the cargo hold pulling the door closed behind him.

Cory and Duncan backed into the vehicle and Amanda took off again… even as one chase vehicle appeared on the horizon.

Amanda floored the accelerator once more and crossed her fingers on the steering wheel. She glanced at Duncan and winked. "I always dreamed of being a Formula One race driver… guess this is my big chance!"

"Just drive, Amanda!" Duncan smirked. "And don't wreck!"

"I'll have you know," she retorted, "_I_ have never wrecked!" She spun the wheel to the right and flicked off the headlights as she drove in amongst some trees, stopped suddenly and shut the motor off.

"Shh!" Duncan motioned to everyone… as he watched the chase vehicle pass by on the road. He counted to ten… then he counted to twenty and listened to the sounds of the night. He motioned to Amanda to start the engine.

She did so… but left the lights off as she eased through the trees. "I love four wheel drive," she whispered, and began to drive cross-country to the accompaniment of nervous laughter.

"Anyone hurt?" Duncan asked; he was especially worried about Derrick, the only non-immortal… at least not yet. All indicated they were fine.

"So…" whispered Ellie in a teasing tone, "this is how you three managed that crime spree?"

"They did…" Duncan said chuckling, "I just followed along behind them and dug them up whenever they went down in a hail of bullets."

"No digging us up this time Mackie boy," Cory grinned. "I told you you'da had more fun if you'da joined us."

"Let's just find someplace safe," said Grace, obviously not in the mood for light banter.

Duncan sobered, as he remembered this was not all fun and games… it was life and death.

-----

Shortly after… Amanda stopped in another grove of trees. Duncan motioned Ellie out. He spread the maps and compass on the hood of the _Rover_.

"But we don't know exactly where we are?" she insisted. "This won't work."

"We'll take a temporary reading… just to get an idea of general direction. When we get a chance… and a better location… we take another. Ready?"

Ellie closed her eyes and seemed to go deeply into herself. Her eyes fluttered and she smiled. As before she seemed to respond to Methos' touch. One hand rose to her neck and she laughed. Then the hand pointed into the darkness. "There! He's there!" Duncan quickly used the compass to get a reading… then once more oriented the maps with the compass reading and drew a line.

"Switzerland…" he muttered. "It's the only place that makes sense. But where exactly?"

He folded the maps and motioned Ellie into the car. "Let's go," he told Amanda. "We're headed to Geneva."

"Lovely," she said, and shifted into drive once more. This time when she came to a road… she climbed back onto the highway and drove along at a swift and easy pace… toward the border with Switzerland.

-----

****

Niebos

Phillip sat dejectedly in his trashed office. As yet, he had no idea how to restrain Valeraine… how to end the nightmare… He knew that to kill her outright would only make things worse. But he shivered at the thought of maiming her the way Nick had been maimed. That had been Nestor's way with the young immortal… it could not be Phillip's way of restraining him. The Swordmaster still hoped that somehow… Valeraine might be saved.

He'd been surprised at how quickly she'd begun to be consumed by Nestor… considering how young Nick had been, and how long he'd lasted. Evidently Nestor had prepared for this. Nikos had told him how quickly the monster healed from bullets at the final showdown.

"He was stronger, _patron_!" Nikos had said. "He would not be stopped. She saved the child… but was taken by his darkness! When she turned on me… I shot her as she had told me to do… and then I locked her body up in the cell… although I thought it foolishness. In less than an hour… she was back… and urging me to let her out… that she had won and that we were all safe. But I remembered my promise to wait for you. When I reminded her… I saw the monster within her." Nikos had shaken his head. "How can anyone defeat the monster?"

Phillip sat in the darkness and shook his head. "I don't know," he said to the darkness. He heard the sounds of music emanating from the music room. Curious, he followed it. He entered the music room and found Claudia at the keyboard of the old Steinway. No one had played that for years. Antonio was standing at her side… giving a rendition of an aria from **_Aida_**.

Keith and Vincent were standing by a bookcase… apparently stunned by the music… and willing to halt whatever conversation they had going on.

The children were on the two divans. Micah and Madrigal arm in arm… Madrigal had been crying. Chou and Denis on the other divan in much the same position as the older couple. All the children dearly felt the loss of their companion and fellow child immortal. They were staring at the musicians with sad faces.

Reagan slipped her arm into Phillip's. "Whatever you decide Phillip… I'll help you."

Phillip nodded soberly. "I can't take her head… nor do I have a way to restrain her here. It's only a matter of time before she manages to free herself or convinces one of us to let her go. Moreover, the Watchers may return here at any time. If they do, then everything is for naught. Nestor will find a way to be free."

"What if he's dead?"

Phillip shook his head. "Not even death will hold him."

"It only has to hold him for a while," Reagan said. "Just enough time so that we can manage to come up with something else."

"Have you heard nothing? Each time we kill her… he grows stronger… and comes back sooner."

"Then you need a way to keep her dead for a while… a long while."

Phillip nodded. "I know… but how?"

"You need to come up with something quickly, Phillip. We need to get these children and the others to safety."

Phillip nodded, then applauded as Antonio and Claudia finished their number. "Ursa kept saying we needed to take Nick to the cove. We did go. Ursa wanted to take him to the rocks… but I couldn't see the purpose in it. The oracle is long gone." He'd explained some of his past on Niebos to the rest of the immortals during the flight here.

"Maybe it wasn't the oracle he wanted Nick to see," Reagan said quietly.

Phillip paused. "He wanted to take Nick to the rocks." Phillip closed his eyes and tried to picture the rock shelf. What was there that he had not considered? The rock shelf was only barely above the water's level at low tide. Around it were the deeper depths of the cove.

For a moment he was a boy again and standing at Danae's side on the rocks one moonlit night as she shared the secrets of the cove with him. He knelt at the rock's edge and peered into the depths of the water. "What's that?" he'd asked her, making out something glistening in the clear water of the cove.

"_That which can hold the darkness_," she'd laughed… a deep, throaty laugh that felt to Phillip… even after all this time… that it was rich and filled with honey.

Phillip laughed aloud. "I have it!" he threw back his head and let his laughter ring. He turned to face Reagan. "I'll need your help."

Reagan nodded. "Whatever you need."

-----

Less than hour later he and Reagan arrived at the magistrate's office. He dismissed Nikos to go home. "We will deal with her now," he'd assured the young man.

Once Nikos had left, Phillip approached the cell.

Valeraine had ripped off her clothes and eyed him salaciously… her tongue wriggled before her and she cackled. "Have you come to kill me my love?" She eyed Reagan in the background… a crossbow in her hands. "Will she watch? Or do you wish me to love her… while you watch?" Nestor continued.

The girl leaped to her feet and rushed the bars… reaching through to wriggle her fingers at Phillip. "_Come with me and be my love… and we will all the pleasures prove_," she quoted.

Phillip shook his head. He raised a hand and gestured toward Reagan. Then he pointed. She fired the crossbolt into Valeraine's body. Phillip rushed the cell door, swiftly unlocking it, and throwing himself on the reviving child. Quickly he caught her arms and held them above her head.

Reagan followed him in and grabbed the girl's kicking feet. Holding them down with all the strength she possessed.

Phillip held both hands in one hand and pulled out the syringe. Nick had been developing a resistance to the drugs over the years… but Valeraine's body would likely be susceptible… at least for a few minutes… long enough to do what they needed.

Phillip rammed the syringe into one of her arms and pushed the plunger while she snarled and snapped at him. Gradually her struggles ceased and her eyes rolled upward. Once he was certain she was sedated, he nodded to Reagan who pulled out handcuffs and shackles.

Phillip handcuffed Valeraine's hands together while Reagan applied the shackles. Then she opened the body bag. Swiftly Phillip rolled the girl into the black vinyl bag… zipped it shut, secured it with a padlock and chain… and then cast her over his shoulder.

"Let's go!" he said. Already he could feel her start to shift and move as her system… with Nestor's help… fought the drugs.

Together the two of them raced from the office and through the deserted streets of the village. Phillip led the way to the cove path. He had no time to climb the mountain this time. He only hoped the gods understood. After all… he already had his answer from them… he already knew what he needed to do.

Once at the cove he splashed through the low tide out to the hidden rock ledge. Throwing Valeraine's body onto the shelf… he leaped down into the water. Here was a set of metal rings… bright in the glow of moonlight… still strong and unrusted even after millennia in seawater. Reagan rolled Valeraine's body off the shelf and into his arms and then jumped into the water with him.

Together they pushed her body down beneath the water's surface, and secured it by the modern chain to the ancient rings. "Titanium doesn't rust!" he'd told Reagan earlier. "It will hold… by all the gods… it will hold Nestor long enough for us to find another way."

Once the body was submerged… Phillip and Reagan piled surrounding rocks on the body to make certain it was securely held. By the time they were finished… the tide was rising. Phillip pulled himself back onto the ledge and then pulled Reagan up. He looked down on the small dark bundle that was the bodybag containing Valeraine.

"I'm sorry lass," he said. "I know no other way for the moment." He lifted his eyes to the moonlit waves and watched the pattern of the ocean spray. "Hold her my lady!" he cried out. "Hold the darkness for us. Not forever… just for a while. Keep her safe… that she may one day be free of it."

The waves in the face of the returning tide crashed about him. As always, Phillip heard no reply… no voice assuring him that he had acted correctly. But implicitly, he understood in the sound of the waves… that his prayers were answered.

He wiped the salt spray from his face. "Let's go Reagan. We can do nothing more for her now." The two immortals turned their back on the ocean… and splashed their way back to the shore.


	111. Chapter 107

_**NOTE: **A reviewer wants to know about titanium. Okay... titanium, named for the Greek Titans, is an element found naturally in igneous rock (Atomic Number 22) that is extremely strong and corrosion resistant. While titanium is mainly alloyed with other minerals today and used primarily in aircraft construction... I simply postulate that since it is an element, that some ancient metalworker learned of its properties and forged the rings. The story of Phillip's youth on Niebos has not yet been written... although I have it plotted out. --elle_

_---------------------------------------_

**Chapter 107**

**Watcher Compound**

Henry Rawlins emerged alone from the dimly lit office. He walked stiffly… as if in pain. Wilderman noted his boss had changed clothes, and that there was a firm set to his jaw, as if he were clenching his teeth.

Rawlins came to the catwalk and stared down at his specimens. He breathed in and out with a measured control. Finally he turned and faced Wilderman. "We will have a new shipment arriving shortly. One of them will fill your requirements for an in-between subject. You will do whatever it takes to achieve our final goal."

Wilderman nodded. "I need Dr. Romney to calibrate…"

"Dr. Romney is no longer your concern," Rawlins warned him… stepping close enough so that the force of his words blew on Wilderman's face. You will handle the calibration yourself."

"I really must protest…"

Rawlins grasped him by his necktie and pulled it tight so tight, that Wilderman gasped for breath. Gradually he forced Wilderman backwards until he leaned precariously over the catwalk rail. "You protest?" the madman said. "Do you feel the need to be replaced?"

"No… no… no sir!" Wilderman managed over his growing stutter.

Rawlins released him and Wilderman coughed, rubbing his throat.

"You have perhaps an hour, Dr. Wilderman. Be ready. I want no further delays." Rawlins turned and leaned on the catwalk railing and grinned at his kingdom.

Wilderman backed away. As he passed his old office… he wondered what lay inside. Any hope of his entering the office, however, was prevented by the presence of the two black-dressed guards. They stared flatly at him. Wilderman knew without even asking them, that they would not help him. With one glance, the scientist took in their body armour and their weapons. They carried automatic weapons and thick custom broadswords were buckled at their waists. They belonged to Rawlins… body and soul. Like him… they eagerly awaited the outcome of Wilderman's tests… hopeful that he would find the answers. Hopeful that they would be the first of a new breed of immortals. This place crawled with others like them.

Wilderman bowed slightly to them as he passed them by and made his way down the metal stairs… listening to the hollow sound his feet made on them. The sounds were as hollow as his soul. Once he'd achieved the main floor, he brushed past several of his aides on his way to the main operating area. He cast himself into the chair behind the console and held his head in his hands. Looking upward… he saw Rawlins still standing and looking down on them all. Wilderman took a deep breath and powered up the computer and the instruments. It had been some time since he'd had to calibrate the instruments himself… it would likely take him almost the entire hour he'd been allotted to do so.

He was lost in the programming when he heard the klaxons sound. The doors of the freight elevator opened and three gurneys were wheeled onto the main floor. Wilderman noted with approval how his people leaped to their tasks… taking the specimens in hand. They would be shaved and prepped in fifteen minutes.

One of the black-garbed men who had accompanied them here approached Wilderman with a computer disc. "This is the information we have on the three new specimens. Rawlins is especially interested in number 66."

Wilderman accepted the disk soberly, "Thank you." He inserted the disk into the computer and loaded the data for all four. He leaned forward as he mentally translated the information as it flashed across the screen. "Yes… number 66 may hold the clue."

He leaned back and pushed the intercom. "I want number 's 66 and 14 brought to the operating area for experimentation. He smiled. If this worked… he might yet find a way out of this morass. He might yet live to see the sky again. He might yet be applauded before the Nobel Committee as a true pioneer of dream research. Julius Wilderman closed his eyes and for a moment… dressed in a tuxedo… humbly bowed to thunderous applause. His white gloved hands reached for the prize. Never had it seemed so close.

-----

Claire Romney lay huddled on the floor of the office… still shivering from the beating that had accompanied her "servicing" of Rawlins. She coughed blood and gingerly pressed her hand to some loose teeth. She shuddered uncontrollably as the memory of his attack upon her flashed in her mind. Never had she been so horribly treated. Her abdomen was likewise swollen where he'd kicked and stomped on her in his fury.

Whimpering she pulled herself into fetal position, and continued to shake. She was so cold! He'd literally ripped her clothes to shreds when he'd been unable to perform adequately due to his injury. He'd roared and pelted her face and body again and again as if it were her fault. She had not been able to do what he wanted… bring him the release he needed. Finally he'd stopped when his phone rang. He'd answered it, grinned, and then pulled her up by her hair. "You will wait for me here. We will continue this later." Then he'd thrown her against the wall and begun to strip off his clothes to change. She'd been afraid to even move.

He was gone now… and still she feared to move… feared he'd return and having found she'd done so… would begin the assault again. And the next time… she opened one swollen eye and regarded the dead form of her predecessor… he'd kill her. She began to sob quietly.

-----

The probes were inserted into their heads. Wilderman measured everything. He wanted it all to be perfect. He tapped the drug pouches. Everything was set up. He glanced up at Rawlins on the catwalk and swallowed nervously. To ask again for Claire Romney's assistance might mean his death. Rawlins simply did not understand how essential Claire was to this procedure.

"Dr. Green," Wilderman said to his tall gangly assistant. "Take the console and call out the readings."

"Yes sir." Green slipped into the chair and took a moment to refamiliarize himself with the readings and the layout. He'd been trained on it as a backup… but he'd yet to be called upon to actually perform. He was understandably nervous.

"All systems are green, Dr. Wilderman. Test subjects' readout within expected parameters."

"Begin Phase One!" Wilderman leaned over the specimens and held his breath as both suddenly flinched and reacted to one another's presence. He glanced at the monitor… at the two figures in the arena, facing one another. He gave them a moment, listening to Green's figures. "Phase Two!" he barked. Their hands clenched in the restraints. On the monitor… swords appeared in their hands. Once more he waited and listened, nodding his head as the readout of figures continued. This was always where things began to go horribly wrong with the oldest specimens… the point where they refused to go further. This time the figures crouched and began to circle. Wilderman nodded with a chuckle. He had them! "Phase Three!" His voice was raised in triumph. On the monitor… the figures began to battle one another… their swords silently crashing into one another's… their movements designed to confuse their opponent… pull them off balance so that they could manage to get an opening… take their opponent's head.

The battle seemed to rage between them while on the gurneys the subjects thrashed within their restraints. This time… they would do it themselves. This time… there would be no need for outside intervention. This time… one of the immortals would die at the hands of the other within the dream… and the machine would record it. Then, they'd know what it was that was really transferred in the quickening… what it was that made these people… immortal.

"Phase Four!" shouted Wilderman above the hum of the machine. Above on the catwalk… Henry Rawlins grinned darkly. The dawn of a new age… was at hand.

-----

****

Liverpool

"Tell us again why you cut off his head!" Detective Nelson Patton sounded almost bored.

"I wanted to be certain he was dead," Burt said truthfully.

The detective leaned forward. "You blew his bleedin' brains out! Of course he was dead. Now why did you cut his head off?"

Burt smiled. "To be certain my children were safe."

Patton let out an exasperated breath, and threw his hands in the air. He glanced at the one-way glass and shrugged, unable to see what his superior wished him to do. Looking at the officer standing behind the handcuffed American… Patton rose. "I'll be right back." He rose and exited to stand beside Captain Sidles.

The black captain of detectives stood with his hands behind him. He stared through the glass without emotion. "He's obviously insane. Perhaps grief at what happened to his children, to his mother-in-law affected his ability to decide rationally."

"He's not insane. He knew what he was doing… and he knew we'd arrest him."

"What should we charge him with? Mistreatment of a corpse? That's a misdemeanor. He pays his fine and he's released."

"Sir. I think there was more to it. Give me time to work with him… talk with him… I'll figure it out. As a young officer on the street… I was on scene of several bizarre head-hunting murders in London. There were three in a single night. They were never solved. He," the detective pointed at Meyers, "may have the answers to solve all those murders."

Sidles shook his head. "He's a grieving father whose children were almost killed by a madman. His children will need him. Fine him and cut him loose."

"But sir!"

"Cut him loose." The captain turned and returned to his office. Beneath the large watch on his left wrist… was a Watcher's tattoo. He sat behind his desk and gazed out at the night skyline, his fingers steepled before him. With a sigh, Sidles dialed his superiors. "I'm letting Meyers go as you ordered. I'll make certain the entire file is lost and the affair disappears from all records." He hung the phone up. Slowly he swiveled around once more to gaze dully at the Liverpool skyline.

-----

By dawn, Burt had returned to the hospital. Abigail was still sleeping where he'd left her. One of the Sisters had come in and sat with her… keeping an eye on her and on Dawson. Burt mumbled his thanks as the Sister left.

He leaned over Dawson's pale form and slowly brushed his hair from his eyes. Dawson's eyes fluttered open. He stared flatly at Burt… then smiled. "Hi Daddy… Did you come to take us home?"

Burt smiled. "I did indeed Dawson… I did indeed." He felt like crying… and he knew there was no shame in it. His children were fine. They were hurt and they'd been terrorized. But they were young… so very young… and if time heals all wounds… then perhaps the horrors of this day would fade from their memories.

Anna whimpered and sat up. "Daddy!" she cried out with a smile and lifted her arms to him. He gathered up and let her see her brother's face.

"See… Dawson's awake."

"Hi Dawson… did you take a long nap?"

Dawson nodded and then grimaced. "My head hurts."

"Just lie still," Burt said as he settled on the side of his son's bed and embraced both his children.

"Can you tell us a story, Daddy?" Abigail said. "I've missed your stories."

Burt smiled. "Let's see now… Once upon a time… a long time ago… magical beings lived on the earth."

"Were they fairies?" Abigail asked.

"They were… but not tiny creatures like Tinkerbell… They were tall and beautiful. They lived a very long time. And they lived in peace with all the other people."

A Sister passing by smiled as she listened for a moment to the father telling his children a fairy story. She'd heard its like before… for as long as she could recall. She found herself humming to herself and smiling as she continued her rounds.

-----

****

Paris, Joe's hospital room

The vibration of her cell phone woke Amy. She dropped her father's hand and rubbed her eyes as she glanced at the number. "Peter? What's the word?" She listened as she watched the easy breathing of her father and the steady flash of the monitors now on silent mode so they could sleep. She turned on a light and grabbed a pad of paper… swiftly writing down a location and some map coordinates. "Okay… I got it. I'll pass the word… and Peter… stay safe. I'll give MacLeod your number so you two can work together. Oh… Burt and the children are fine. Thanks for asking." She shut the phone off and noticed Joe's smile. "We've got them Dad. All we have to do is organize an attack."

"Call Pierre," Joe said. "Watchers have to be involved in the final assault. If they aren't… then the war will widen… and more will die."

Amy nodded. She leaned forward and clasped her father's hand. "We won't let that happen." She called MacLeod and passed Peter's information on to him. Then she called Pierre. "_Monsieur_ Gautier… my father wants to talk to you." She gently held the phone to Joe's ear.

"Pierre!" Joe chuckled. "Doin' fine. Now listen… this is what I need you to do."


	112. Chapter 108

Chapter 108

Mexico

Jeremy crouched momentarily among the _saguaro_. He wiped one hand over his perspiring brow and wished for the cool of some shade. The late afternoon heat made everything in the desolate landscape shimmer.

"How much longer until we meet up with these friends of yours?" Walter asked. He'd flung himself into the minor shade of a cactus… and was examining his torn and bloody bare feet. He pulled out a thorn with a grimace.

Jeremy shook his head. "Not until I'm certain no one is watching us. They left you alive for a reason. I won't risk leading them back to my friends."

Walter nodded and tossed the thorn away. He rubbed his healing foot. "Just wish I'd found some shoes back there." His face was florid in the heat. He lifted the surgical bone saw he'd grabbed as they left and grinned at the con man. "You may depend on me young Jeremy. I am a true master of the blade… all blades… even something as unwieldy as this. Why I once…"

Jeremy shook his head. "Give it a rest Walter! I'm too hot and too tired for all this posturing!"

"I'll have you know… I never posture!" Walter said as he struck a theatrical pose.

For about the tenth time since reviving the actor, Jeremy Dexter seriously considered just taking the man's head and leaving. But he'd think better of it each time. He and the others were attempting to save their fellow immortals from these Watchers… and while, in time to come, the game might force them to kill one another… it wouldn't… shouldn't… be now.

"Just settle back and let's get a little rest before we move on." Accordingly, Jeremy stretched out on the rocky sand and closed his eyes, his ears still straining for the sounds of anything.

-----

****

Mexico City

Matt thanked the driver and slowly approached the gates of the embassy to talk to the Marines standing guard. Once he'd shown his FBI identification… he was swiftly buzzed into the compound and led to the consulate offices.

Once there, he settled to wait in the lavishly decorated outer offices. He closed his eyes, weary beyond belief, worried about exposing himself… and more worried about those he'd left behind. He rubbed one hand across his eyes.

"Agent McCormick?"

Matt looked wearily up into the face of Donald Tremain, assistant adjutant to the ambassador. The man was lean… and looked every inch the warrior and Marine he'd once been.

Matt nodded and rose to shake his hand… grasping Tremain's left wrist and surreptitiously turning it over… looking for a tattoo. He saw none.

"My secretary says you've been under deep cover and have a report to make concerning some illegal activities." If Tremain was either confused by Matt's observation of his wrist… or surprised at his arrival here… he showed nothing. His flint gray eyes regarded the agent flatly.

"Yes sir," Matt said, giving it his best deep-south accent, and letting the words drip like molasses from his tongue. "I've been tracking some serial killers… killers of Americans… and I've found what I suspect is their stronghold in northern Mexico. I need your assistance to mount attack on it. I doubt the local authorities would listen to me."

"Why the necessity of attacking them here?"

"I believe they are holding a number of Americans prisoner within their fortified _hacienda_. I believe they will kill them before the day is out."

Tremain's eyes widened. "You're certain of this?"

Matt grimaced slightly. "As certain as I can be. While alone I could follow them… I couldn't get inside the _hacienda _without being captured. I did see armed men… and I have been in other places these people have used in the past… and seen what they have left behind." _Keep it vivid enough to convince him… vague enough to intrigue him_, Matt thought. "Our people are being tortured and butchered."

"You think it may be terrorists?"

Matt nodded curtly. "It certainly is one possibility."

Tremain looked into the distance and sighed. His military background screamed for an immediate attack before anything happened… but his diplomatic training urged caution. "I'll need additional specifics so that I can make my report to the ambassador. He's the one who has to approach the Mexican authorities about any operation we need to be involved in."

Matt swallowed and nodded. "Of course. But time is of the essence. These people have led me a merry chase. They apparently have vast resources… and many properties both here and throughout the world."

Tremain gestured for Matt to follow him into his office. "Then it is time, Agent, to make your report. I want to hear everything you have learned."

Matt followed… he had to… or more would die.

-----

****

Mexico

Jade impatiently rose. "It's taking too long for Jeremy to get back!" she snapped. She grabbed one of the automatic rifles and a canteen. "I'm going down there."

Katya grabbed her arm, only to be shrugged off. "He'll be here!"

"He's likely just bein' careful." Amber looked up from where she sat and gave Jade a weak smile. "Ya know how men are. They want to protect us."

Jade snorted. "I can protect myself!" She narrowed her eyes as she regarded Katya. "Can you?"

"I promised, we'd wait."

Jade stared off into the distance. "Matt may be dead. He may be days away from getting back to us. He may be captured. Has he called? No!" She rammed the bolt of the automatic and held it up with a grin. "I say we go down there. We look for information… and we…" she laughed. "protect the men. We draw the attention to us."

Katya bit her lip. She liked Jade's plan. She was weary of this waiting. She also knew that she and Jade were older and far more capable of fighting than Jeremy Dexter appeared to be. And… Katya fingered her own automatic… she desperately wanted to kill something… or someone.

Slowly she nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"No!" cried Amber. "Ya saw how many of them left here. We have no chance if they return!"

Katya sighed as she tried to think this through. "They left. They left for a reason. Did they know we were here?" She met the gaze of the others and shrugged. "I don't know. Do they know Matt has gone for help?" She smiled. "Unless they captured him… and I doubt that… they don't know."

Glancing at Jade, Katya smiled. "Let's give it another hour. I want to check my messages and try to reach Matt before we go down there."

"He'll just tell us to wait!" Jade snapped.

"Maybe… but he needs to know what we plan."

Jade collapsed back onto the sandy soil and dejectedly lowered her head into her hands. Katya patted the thief lightly on her back. "I know this is hard. I understand. But we are too few to make a difference right now." Katya handed Amber the binoculars and then scuttled down the slope to pull Matt's PPC out. She flicked it on and pulled up her email.

A few moments later, she grinned, whistled and motioned the others down the slope.

"I've heard from MacLeod," she said as they gathered about her. "He's met with one of these Watchers… Evidently this group," she gestured toward the slope, "is an aberrant faction of their organization. He suggests caution."

"Argghh!" Jade groaned. "Who's going to tell these people? Besides… no one has the right to interfere in the game… and that is precisely what these people are doing!"

"Anything from Matt?" asked Amber quietly.

Katya shook her head. She fingered the cell phone and considered calling him. Just then it vibrated. Nearly dropping it in her urgency to answer, she breathed a greeting into the phone.

"How goes it?" Matt's strong voice made Katya smile. Swiftly she explained what had happened so far… about the Watchers leaving, Jeremy's trip to the _hacienda_, his finding of Graham… and the dead bodies.

"He and Walter headed off to the south almost two hours ago. We've heard nothing else." Then she mentioned hearing from MacLeod.

"Then what I'm doing should work with his plans," Matt continued and explained that with luck… a combined US and Mexican force would approach the _hacienda_ before dawn. "Stay out of there," Matt warned them. Let them find what's there. The bodies alone should be enough to substantiate my claims of this menace."

Jade grabbed the phone. "What about Jeremy? He's out there alone!"

Matt was silent. "Watch the horizon. It's all you can do."

"Watch the…?" Then Jade blanched and she shut her eyes. She handed the phone back to Katya.

"There are some additional coordinates in MacLeod's message." Swiftly she gave Matt the others in the US, Canada and Mexico.

"Thanks! After they see what's in the _hacienda_, I have a feelin' I'll have support for additional raids. Keep Jade and Amber safe, Katya. I'll meet up with you later… Once it's safe."

After making their farewells, Katya closed the cell phone. "Batteries getting low," she said quietly as she slipped it into her pants pocket.

The three women continued to crouch nervously in the late afternoon sun… each consumed by their worry… and their different memories.

-----

**__**

Paris, Spring 2000

Jade should have been furious. This cheeky immortal had interrupted her carefully laid plans to abscond with the Da Vinci!

Instead… against her better judgment… she found herself amused.

"Jeremy Dexter," the immortal said with a gracious bow and a flourish.

Jade had shaken her head and smirked at him. "You do realize that I was hoping to steal that Da Vinci from the exhibition… I had a buyer all lined up!"

"Ahh…" said Jeremy as he brought out from a pocket the ruby and pearl necklace of Catherine the Great. "I fear I was using your attempt to cover mine for this. May I make it up to you… say… fifty-fifty?"

Jade's eyes had widened and she stared at the rubies sparkling by the light of the street lamps. She licked her lips. It was worth far more than the Da Vinci. "Fifty-fifty?"

Jeremy had shrugged. "I always share with beautiful ladies."

She'd gazed then into his laughing eyes… and thought to herself… _This could be fun!_

-----

**__**

Calais, 1388

Katya raced into the small courtyard, flinging off her pack and drawing her small broadsword at the same time.

"You must be fluid in your motions," Benedict, her teacher had told her. "Always know what you will do in any situation… and be ready to adjust."

She rested her weight easily on the balls of her feet… hoping her skirts hid her steps and her intentions.

He entered… a big man… as so many of them were. A laughing sneer crossed his face. "A woman? You must be very young! Has no one taught you your place in the game, yet? You live to service me!"

Katya said nothing. This man did not need to know her true age… instead she focused on his movements and kept fearfully backing up… watching for the opening. He was overconfident… it would be his undoing.

"Female immortals are rare, Katya," the old one had said. "If only because too many awaken and unable to deal with the game… fall victim to the first immortal they meet. Your head would have been mine… if I'd so chosen." Benedict had circled around her… his blade at her throat as if to emphasize her peril. "You must never trust any of us."

"Even you?" she'd asked. He was a Franciscan Friar… and had found her half-mad and haunting the villagers who'd stoned her. She kept re-awakening whenever they'd kill her… and unable to understand what had happened… kept returning to her village… thinking that perhaps she was a ghost and destined to haunt them for all time.

She'd lost track of how long it had been happening. She'd awaken. Pull her bloodied rags about her and drift back into the village… where she'd stare and point fingers at her murderers. She'd steal food and drink… frighten the children... until they'd kill her again. Sometimes they'd hang her… sometimes drown her. The children grew and became her tormentors… casting stones at her as their parents once had.

Then one day… even as she'd circled the village green… hissing and screaming… the Franciscan had appeared. Her head had seemed to explode in a wild torrent of angry hornets… and she'd collapsed holding it.

"He is a holy man!" she heard whispered as the Friar had knelt at her side. "Look… he does not fear the demon." Gently he'd laid hands on her.

"She is one of God's children… not a demon. There is great potential here."

Cowering and whimpering on the ground, Katya had said nothing. When he'd offered his hand to help her rise… she'd taken it.

"Go!" he'd told the villagers. "I will take her with me. She will haunt you no more."

Katya had followed him meekly. At his fireside that night… he'd begun to explain. By the next morning… he'd begun her training.

Benedict had smiled as he backed away. "Any of us. Now then… pick up your sword… and let's try it again."

Katya brushed the remnants of her teacher away… focusing instead on the immortal before her. Once she'd finished her training, Benedict had recommended she move on to another land… another life.

"Others will find you Katya. Never trust them… ever. Be always ready… ever vigilant."

She'd had so little time since her recent crossing from England. Already… one had found her. Katya focused on him. She was at a disadvantage in size and reach… as Benedict had warned her she would be.

He spread his arms and made a kissing movement with his lips within his neatly trimmed dark beard. "Shall we get to know one another properly?" One of his hands dropped to his crotch as he made an obscene gesture. "Which sword of mine do you want?"

Katya drew a deep breath, pulled back her arms… then ran and leaped at him… thrusting her blade into his chest… grinning at the look of surprise on his face. Pulling back once more… she waited until he was on his knees. Then she sliced… seeing in this man… all the men who had ever wronged her.

The power she received had wracked her as death seldom had… except that first time. In its aftermath… Katya found Louis of Cologne's crossbow. Benedict was right! She needed an advantage.

-----

**__**

Cheyenne, WY, 1872

Amber-Kate Connor… as she called herself in this life, glanced up from behind the bar. It was late… and she was tired… and in no mood for dealing with another immortal.

He'd entered and was slouched down in the shadows at the edge of the room… a dark soft hat pulled low over his face.

Rose bent to speak with him and then sauntered back to the bar.

"Kate… love… that one says he knows you," she said as she placed his order… "Scotch if we have it… neat. He wants the bottle."

Amber-Kate raked her eyes over the shadowy figure. "If'n he knows me… then he can come to the bar." She pulled out a bottle of Scots whiskey and blew the dust off. There was little call for good whiskey here. Most wanted it cheap and fast. She set the bottle on the bar and reached for a shot-glass, carefully wiping it with the corner of her apron.

Unlike the girls who worked the floor… taking orders… for whiskey or pleasure upstairs, Amber-Kate was dressed as a man… dark wool pants and a pale linen shirt covered her trim form. Her long dark blonde hair was pulled loosely back and braided down her back. The regulars had learned long ago not to make advances on her. Too many of them ended up flat on the floor… with their faces smushed into the spittoon if they tried.

There was a twitter of laughter as a few overheard her comments. They turned and leaned back… sipping their beer and spirits and ready for a show.

Rose took the immortal his drink. He poured a shot… lifted it in Amber-Kate's direction in a toast… and then drank it down swiftly.

She had a glimpse of his face under that hat when he'd tossed the whiskey back. And even if she hadn't… she knew him. Chuckling… she returned to her bar duties. It was Saturday night… and busy.

Several hours later… as she tossed the final few patrons out the door… and locked it, she grabbed another bottle from under the bar and settled down beside Connor MacLeod.

"So… me boyo… what brings ya to this place?"

Connor laughed. "Can't a teacher check up on a student… occasionally?" He poured another shot and swiftly downed it.

"To be certain. But I rather think I'm not the reason ya came to Cheyenne."

Connor laughed that distinctive laugh of his. "True… you always did read me like a book."

"Then who? I've been here six months and not seen another."

"Just passing through. Another of my students is further west. I've not seen him in some time… I've mentioned him… my kinsman Duncan MacLeod."

Amber-Kate had lit one of the small black cigarettes she'd recently discovered she had a taste for and casually shuffled a deck of playing cards… laying them out in a pattern for solitaire. "Oh…" she said without commitment.

"How about you lass? How goes your life?"

Amber-Kate downed a shot of whiskey. "It goes."

"Any love on the horizon?"

Amber-Kate sat back and sighed. "Ya say we should never love one another… because of the game. But how can I love a mortal knowin' what I know?"

"Tell me about him," her teacher said gently.

"He's a cattle rancher with a big place north of here. He seems sweet on me for some reason. And he's a nice enough man… it's just…" her voice drifted away.

"You ought to seize love while you can girl!" Connor had offered. "It doesn't find us that often… and when it does… it can be glorious."

"But he wants children. He's building up his ranch with an eye for the future. Knowin' we can't… I can't… not ever… how can I ruin it for him."

Connor sighed and fingered the bottle… so that the dark amber-gold whiskey sloshed about within it. He poured another shot for each of them. "Ya've heard me speak of Heather… my wife."

"Aye."

"I miss her still. The years since her death have not dimmed the love I bore her. And… I wouldna trade one day with her for anything. I wept when she died… but I wouldna have wanted it never to have been. Don't be afraid to love… Katie. Your life will be the richer for it." He lifted his glass in a toast. She clinked her glass with his… and smiled.

-------------------------------------------

**NOTE:** _Walter Graham is a canon immortal from the episode **Timeless. **Benedict is listed on **The New Watcher Chronicles** CD-rom as Katya's teacher. In 1872, Connor did visit Duncan. It was at that time that Duncan's Indian family was killed._


	113. Chapter 109

****

Chapter 109

__

Within the Dream

Carl Robinson gripped his sword in his hand and grimaced as he circled his opponent. Carl was taller… more powerfully built… but this one was older. And if he was older… then he had a great deal of experience.

The man moved swiftly… fluidly… with a grace belied by his older face. He'd evidently died later in life the first time. His pale blue eyes coldly regarded Carl without emotion. His sword swiveled in a back and forth motion that was mesmerizing.

His opponent thrust forward. Carl blocked and pushed him off. They circled again… both focused on the movements of the other. Again his opponent's sword began its hypnotizing movements. Carl blinked and shook his head to clear it… in that blink… his opponent's sword slashed down on him drawing blood.

Carl backed away ignoring the pain and the gash on his arm. His opponent smiled… then began to circle… waiting… not pushing his advantage.

His arm slowly healed… it still hurt… but the bleeding lessened… and finally stopped as the gash scabbed over. Soon… even that would fade.

He was once more in the arena. The stands were empty… yet Carl still felt that others were watching. Again and again they brought him here. Again and again he came to himself in this place… and each time… the arena became more real… until nothing remained but it… and his need to survive. How many had he killed? He no longer remembered. At first he'd been hesitant… but as this nightmare of an existence had continued… he'd found it easier and easier to kill the other immortal and end the nightmare.

Somewhere in dreams… he was rewarded. He'd find himself making love to female immortals who stared at him with uncomprehending eyes and fear. Then he'd take them as his just reward… and they'd fade into darkness. He'd sleep… and then the arena appeared again… and he'd face a new challenger.

This was the game, as it should be played! One on one! With nothing to interfere. Match followed match… female followed female. Death and sex were all there was to life! All that there needed to be.

Today would be no different. His arm healed… Carl attacked… swinging strongly one way and the other. His powerful stroke pushed the smaller man back… back… back. Then the other pivoted about and slammed his blade down once more on Carl's newly healed arm. A second stroke slashed across his back.

Once more his opponent backed away… letting him heal. Carl snarled as he rose and turned to face him. "Who are you?"

The other smiled darkly. "I am Kage… young one. I have slain older and better men than you. You are an amusement only. Your skills are laughable!"

Carl lunged at the laughing immortal, his sword positioned to thrust into the other.

But Kage had moved. From behind Carl he sliced again. Carl's knees buckled… his arms dropped to his sides. The hilt of his sword he held laxly in one hand. He leaned forward and grunted at the searing pain.

"Did you really think you were that good? Did you really think you'd win?" Kage's voice taunted.

Carl noted the man's shadow on the bloodied sand of the arena. He'd raised his sword and was ready for the final blow.

"It's the end for you… and a new beginning… for me!"

-----

****

Watcher Compound

Wilderman grinned as the indicators rose. "He's taken him!"

Above on the catwalk, Rawlins held his breath. If this worked… if they'd finally caught it… then he and his people could share in this immortality that seemed wasted on these self-destructive fools! Once they understood it… once they quantified it and dissected it… then… they could reproduce it at will.

"_Men need never die again_," Rawlins thought "_at least those who serve m_e." Already he could see the kingdom he'd set up. Already he could see his immortal army spreading out across the face of the world… bringing the world to its knees… that it might adore Henry Rawlins… its savior. It might take centuries… but it would happen… and _he_ would live forever.

The two specimens yet lived… physically… but one would sleep… and the other would be tested and probed until they had the answers. And then… Rawlins let his gaze move toward the drugged form of number 47. "When I am ready… you and I will meet within the dream… and I will take what you have… and _I_ will emerge immortal." His facial expression was one of greed and anticipation. He felt himself harden at the thought… aware that the bite and sutures burned… but he'd finally hardened again.

Henry Rawlins stood straight and turned to his lieutenant. "Fetch me again, once Dr. Wilderman is ready for the next phase, Mr. Chang." He was ready for another turn with the delectable Dr. Romney… and this time… things would go better. He leered in anticipation.

-----

****

Franco-Swiss Border

Duncan pulled the _Land Rover_ off to the side of the road at a scenic overlook. Gazing at the mountains about him… he reveled for a moment in the glow of the early dawn as it tinged the snowcaps rose and gold. These mountains were far higher than the ones of his native Scotland. They were desolate and craggy… but there was a beauty here that he'd always found enticing.

"I want another reading," he murmured softly to Ellie as he climbed out. She followed him quietly, standing and shivering in the cold air. Her lightweight jacket insufficient at this altitude. "Now that we have some altitude… I want to get an idea of whether we'll find him up or down… and how far."

Ellie nodded and closed her eyes… drawing once more deep within herself. She wavered slightly… as if losing once more the strength to manage this. Duncan watched Derrick unfold himself from the rear and climb out… his eyes filled with worry.

The boy reached to steady her.

Ellie's face relaxed in a warm smile and she leaned back against the boy… but Duncan knew she was no longer here. Almost regretfully she sobered and took a deep breath. Slowly one arm lifted and she pointed once more.

Duncan made certain the orientation was still the same… and then attempted to get the azimuth, quickly using his PPC to figure the angle of descent from where they were. He studied his findings as he listened to Derrick murmur softly into Ellie's ear that it wouldn't be much longer. Just to hold on. He met the boy's worried gaze.

"She's dying," the boy mouthed.

Duncan nodded. Every time he pushed her… she acceded to his wishes… and every time she seemed weaker… as if this were draining her of life. Each of them had lent something of themselves to her as they'd pushed on. Now… all were tired.

Duncan tapped the map as Amanda looked over his shoulder. She slipped hands under his jacket and shivered in the frosty morning air. "Are we getting any closer?"

"The readings match up closely with the location of Kage's transponder signal. We should make contact with Meyers' people in a few hours." Duncan folded the map and for a moment reveled in the feel of Amanda next to him.

As if she understood… she hugged him tightly from behind. "I love you!" she whispered.

Duncan chuckled and let his mind recall her lying next to him in the bed at that bed-and-breakfast. Her long lean body moving against his seductively in the bed and he yearned for her to be more than his occasional lover.

He grasped one of Amanda's hands and kissed her fingers, tempted to see once more if a spark would fly if he drew one of the patterns on her. Duncan sighed and shook his head as he eyed Ellie. She'd warned him against pursuing that course until the time was right. He couldn't afford the distraction! Especially now… seeing what this bonding had done to Ellie… and… his eyes took in Alisaunne still sitting in the _Rover_… her fingers moving lightly over the pages of Darius' journal as if by their very touch… she'd know more than she did now. Occasionally… the young woman shuddered as if attempting to throw off the touch of another… as if Nestor were reaching out to caress her. How much longer before she finally succumbed to his enticements? How much longer would the Ancient's quickening buoy her abilities to fight off the demon.

Duncan MacLeod knew he was running out of time!

"Time to go," he said reluctantly. He turned to give Amanda a quick kiss. "Later," he promised.

Amanda smiled curiously, as if wondering just what he meant.

Moments later, the _Rover_ re-loaded… and Ellie curled sleeping in Derrick's arms… Duncan pulled once more onto the mountain road. He had miles to go… and no time to sleep… or dream. If he was to save them all… he needed to focus clearly on the here… and the now.

-----

****

Paris

Pierre Gautier glared at the shouting heads of the newly re-constituted Watcher Council… and understood in one of those clarifying moments that he sometimes had… just how Henry Rawlins had wrested the control of the organization into his hands… and those of his followers. He'd offered a calm soothing presence… a sense of order and decorum… freedom from arguments… freedom from responsibility. Rawlins had given the Council peace… and in return… they had slunk eagerly off to their other lives… weary of living vicariously through their immortals.

Glancing about the table at his friends… Pierre wondered for one moment if it wouldn't be easier to do as Rawlins had done… just take control and re-direct everything to suit his agenda. The old man sighed. "_As hard as this is… as tiresome as this feuding is… there are reasons for it… so that nothing ever gets swept under the rug. No one should have too much control!_" he thought.

"In the Americas," Brian Crane was explaining, "immortals attacked our people unnecessarily. We've lost over a dozen operatives in St. Louis and near Oakland. I have given orders that these at least… must die!"

There was another round of arguments and raised voices.

"Our library facility in Taranto was breached. While reports are sketchy as to what may have been going on there… it is evident immortals came in… and immortals left. No one was left alive. Many of the personnel there were literally torn limb from limb."

Again voices were raised as the regional coordinators began arguing.

Pierre winked at Marie and then cleared his voice. "Then none of you know about this new "Sanctuary Project" that Henry Rawlins had authorized?"

Immediately a hush fell over the room. Pierre watched the eyes of the others in the monitors. Those that shifted slightly were likely at least partially culpable in the capture of the missing immortals. He took mental notes as to their identities. He'd deal with them later… at least he knew who to trust… and who to watch.

"That project was deemed a fool's plan decades ago," Takamoto dismissed. "The immortals are to be watched and remembered when none of them remain. If the Gathering has come as has been widely speculated… then our memories of them and who they were become of prime importance. We cannot function if they know we are watching."

Pierre smiled thinly behind his upraised hand as it brushed over his upper lip. "_Precise as always, my old friend_," he thought. "_You always could cut to the chase._"

"May I speak?" Pierre shifted in the leather chair and opened his hands as if he were there at their request and not the other way around.

The heads of the council nodded their agreement and silence gripped the room.

"We cannot undo what has been done. Many have died on both sides if what Duncan MacLeod has told me is true. He believes immortals are being held by the Watchers… and he is determined to rescue them."

"What would keep him from decimating them as Jacob Kell did? After all… he took Kell's head! Perhaps he is becoming the kind of immortal Kell was. He's attacked us before?" That was Crane.

"Then you admit you know something of this?" suggested Pierre.

Crane blanched. His dark eyes darted back and forth. He licked his lips finally and nodded. "Rawlins assured me that the subjects were being held for study… to fill in the gaps of data in the old files."

"Against their will?" stormed Takamoto, slapping a palm on the table before him. "This is a travesty!"

Crane seemed to shrink in his chair… as if aware his days might be numbered. To Pierre, his next moves were like a rat on a sinking ship… seeking any way to survive.

"I only know I was asked to hold certain immortals until Rawlins sent his people to collect them. Rogue immortals began killing my people! I had every right to order them eliminated when found!"

Pierre leaned back in his chair… no longer amused. "What have you done Brian? Spill it man… what have you done?"

Brian pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket and warily dabbed at his brow, obviously stalling for time. He could clearly see over the monitors in his office that everyone's attention was focused on him.

Finally he lowered his hand. "I have authorized extreme sanction against the immortals who attacked us. Even now, the noose tightens and it cannot be undone. Their fate no longer lies in my hands… but in the hands of those who hunt them."

At the gasp to his right, Pierre grasped the hand of Marie Chezlon, squeezing it to give her reassurance. "Then stand down Crane. Your passwords are revoked." Pierre nodded at Theresé who already was entering codes into the database.

Hands grasped Crane and pulled him from his chair. A few moments later a dark-skinned and thin dark-haired woman took his place. "For those who do not know me… I am Tamisha Bradley. I am assuming temporary control of our North American offices. It was recently reported to me that Crane authorized the deaths of several Watchers and their families who were found to have helped these so-called rogue immortals. From what I gather in listening today, it would seem they were not rogues… but were attempting to liberate their brethren from the new Sanctuaries and met with resistance. I am even now attempting to locate Crane's kill squad and tell them to stand down. I fear, however, this may be too little, too late."

"The main thing," Pierre added, "is that we stop this conflict before it gets out of hand. I am ordering that all immortals currently held in any facility you control be released. In the case of some of the more dangerous ones…" Pierre nodded at the Italian coordinator, I suggest you beat a hasty retreat. These people will not like what has happened to them."

"And our records and our secrecy?"

Pierre sighed. "Take what records you can. I have a feeling that because of this… too many immortals, who should not have learned of us, have. If we hope to salvage anything… we must assist MacLeod in finding Rawlins and in helping him rescue the main lot. If we fail… MacLeod has assured me that he will make certain each and every immortal still alive learns of us. He has kept our secret… now… we must help him or millennia's worth of information will be lost and more of us will die."

Pierre ended the meeting. The monitors were shut off. Slowly he picked up his cell phone and dialed Amy Meyers. "Tell Joseph… it's done," he said simply and shut it off. Now he had to gather a force… a trusted one from amongst people who were primarily scholars and historians… and arrange to fight a battle for the life and soul of this organization.


	114. Chapter 110

****

Chapter 110

Watcher Compound

As he nervously approached the guards standing at the door of his old office, Wilderman could not contain his excitement. The two men, Chang and Scott… if he recalled their names correctly… glared at him as if he were an insect buzzing about unnecessarily.

Wilderman rubbed his hands together, not in triumph, but in a pleading manner. "Inform the director that we are ready to test."

Chang's eyes widened slightly. Scott's mouth betrayed the smallest glimmer of greed. Wilderman shuddered. Were these to be the rulers of the New World that Rawlins saw?

"Wait here," snapped Scott. The massive redheaded muscleman motioned Wilderman to wait and then knocked lightly on the door. At the peckish voice, he cleared his throat. "Wilderman is here… he's ready for the next phase."

A few moments later, a slightly disheveled Rawlins pulled the door open… his eyes bright with anticipation. "So soon?"

Wilderman sighed… even as he attempted to see what lay within the office before Rawlins pulled it firmly shut behind him.

"I have detected a small variance in the mental readings. I believe I can reproduce it and attempt to introduce it into a mortal subject. Then… we can see what happens."

Rawlins threw his head back… his facial expression reflected triumph! Turning to Mr. Scott… he lay one hand on the man's shoulders and clasped it companionably. "Are you ready?"

Scott nodded curtly. "I have been ready for longer than I care to admit."

Rawlins nodded. "Good!" He met Mr. Chang's eyes. "If it takes… you will be next. And then I will join you. After that… once we are certain that all goes, as it should… the others will join us. By tomorrow all of us shall be immortal. We will re-invent the game… not as a gladiatorial combat… but as true men… ready to step up and bring order out of the chaos of this world. We will bring an eternity of peace and prosperity to mankind!"

Chang Li's dark eyes glittered with anticipation… he licked his lips as his hand thoughtfully fingered the hilt of his Chinese sword_._ "For years I have trained to be the best swordsman I can be… I have dedicated myself to this endeavor. Now… if centuries stretch before us… then I will have time to perfect my skills in your service.

Cameron Scott bowed slightly. "I am honored to be the first."

Wilderman turned away. Only the vision of the Nobel Prize clutched in his hungry hands kept him focused on what he was doing. Slowly he retreated down the stairs… aware that he was followed.

-----

****

Paris

Amy Meyers scooped her daughter into her arms and showered her with kisses. She reached one hand forward to pull Burt into the embrace and found herself sobbing.

She'd left Joe's room when she'd gotten the word that they were here. Burt had insisted on the Liverpool hospital transferring Dawson to Paris, once the boy had regained consciousness. Although reluctant to do so… the doctors had finally agreed. Holding Abigail in her arms, Amy leaned over the gurney with the small pale form of Dawson on it.

"Hi big guy!" she said as she softly brushed his hair from his eyes.

"Where's Grandpa?" Dawson said weakly.

"He's upstairs," Amy replied. "He can't come down here right now. But… he says for you to be a good boy and get well soon."

"We need to get him settled," a nurse interrupted.

Amy nodded and stepped back. She felt Burt's arms slip about her and Abigail. She couldn't believe how good he felt… how relieved she felt. Then she recalled that there had been a price to pay. She sniffed at thoughts of her mother and bit her tongue. She didn't want to say anything in front of the children… but she had a thousand questions about how Laura had died … the funeral arrangements… and about Mischkov's death.

"I need to talk to Joe," Burt whispered in her ear. He kissed it lightly and left. Amy hugged her daughter more tightly. She wasn't going anywhere right now.

"Mommy… we flew in a helicopter!" Abigail was saying, her child's voice filled now with the wonder of her trip and the need to tell Mommy all about it.

Amy settled in a chair and set Abigail facing her on her lap. She focused her attention on her daughter, "Really? Tell me all about it, baby!"

Upstairs in Joe's room, Burt calmly told his father-in-law what he'd done… how he'd finished off Mischkov. What he'd done to be certain the madman was dead.

Joe's breathing rasped in the silence that followed.

"I had to be certain, Joe!" Burt said. He'd sat in the chair by the bed and leaned forward clasping his hands. "I don't think he was immortal… but I couldn't take the chance."

"No," Joe finally said, "you couldn't."

"Did you ever have to? I mean…" Burt looked up at him, "have to cut off one of their heads?"

"No…" Joe finally replied, "Although I came very close once. I chose to let him live… hoping that there would be a redemption for him."

"MacLeod?"

Joe chuckled. "Yeah… I had that sword at his neck. I had every intention of stopping the darkness then and there. But I couldn't do it. I wanted to believe that who he had always been would somehow triumph over who he'd become."

"But Mischkov was sick and twisted."

Joe nodded. "And you couldn't take the chance." He reached out a hand. "You did what was necessary, son. Now… I need you to do something else… something I can't do at the moment."

Burt nodded. "Whatever you want. We have to end this… and end it now."

-----

****

Rome

Warren Green felt the barrel of a small gun in the small of his back as he stood admiring the Fountain of Trevi.

"Come along now Mr. Green… people have been worried about you," the voice said.

Warren swallowed nervously and nodded his agreement. He quietly let the hands and the gun steer him toward a black limousine. He climbed in when the door was opened.

Lucretia Onofrio sat cross-legged in the rear facing seat. She poured him a drink and handed it to him. "Bourbon… am I right _Signore_ Green."

Warren nodded and gulped the bourbon.

"Where is Reagan Cole?"

Warren shrugged.

"You let her out of your sight?"

Warren held out the glass. "Yes ma'am… it seemed the thing to do at the time."

Onofrio sighed as she casually poured another drink for him and one for herself. After handing him his, she sipped hers thoughtfully. "Was she with the group that hit Taranto?"

Warren paused… and then nodded.

"Who else?"

"An American… Keith Boyer. They were to meet up with someone in Taranto… I didn't catch his name."

Onofrio smiled thinly. "You realize… of course… that you have broken the rules."

Green nodded. "I did!" He paused and smiled. "And I'd do it again. Things are not right within our ranks… and haven't been for a long time."

Onofrio leaned back and sipped her drink. "Would that we all had acted on our fears in such a timely manner. Tell me… Warren… have you ever hear of Joseph Dawson?"

Warren shook his head. "Who's that?"

"An old friend… and a man I think you should speak with." She tapped on the glass behind her and the limousine slowly accelerated into traffic.

"Am I to be killed?" Warren asked, wishing the darkly tinted windows were not quite so dark.

"Should you be?" Onofrio asked. Warren thought he could hear a bit of a tease in her voice.

"No."

Onofrio laughed merrily. "Then perhaps I won't order your death… today."

For the first time since everything had begun in Moscow… Warren Green relaxed.

-----

****

Athens

Denara gasped and opened her eyes. Her bonds were gone… as was the gag. The woman Anita sat sullenly in a nearby chair. Beside her stood a stoop-shouldered man, who bowed and smiled at Denara.

"If you please, Denara, I am Stephan Portocullis."

Denara sat up… rubbing her wrists. She eyed the two individuals darkly. She said nothing.

"My orders are to take you to Niebos personally," the man said kindly.

Denara scooted off the bed and stepped toward the open door. She paused and looked back. "Are you coming then? I should have been there already." Her child's lisp hung in the air.

"I have a helicopter standing by," Portocullis said and smiled kindly as he gestured for her to lead the way.

Denara tilted her head. "Why the helicopter?"

"It is faster than the ferry."

Denara nodded. "My sword?"

Portocullis nodded. "Once we arrive on the island… I will return it to you. Until then… in the interest of my survival… and yours… I suggest I hang on to it."

"And if I refuse to go unless I have it?"

The man shrugged. "Then we remain here. You did say you were in a hurry."

Denara considered his words. "Why?"

He smiled and gestured once more for her to continue on. "Let us just say that older… calmer heads now prevail. We are not your enemy. We are merely… historians."

Denara snorted sarcastically… but she left as directed. The helicopter was in the _agora_ of the estate. She was helped aboard, followed by the old man. Surprisingly… other than the pilot… they were alone.

Portocullis smiled. "As I said… we merely wish to observe."

Denara settled back in the seat as the helicopter rose and circled… before heading southeast.

An hour later the chopper slowed… circled and landed near the vineyards. Denara climbed out… already feeling the approaching presence of the other small ones… and behind them Phillip. She turned to the old man. "My sword now."

He handed it to her with a smile.

The other four encircled their lost sister… all jabbering at once in a plethora of languages.

"Nestor?" Denara managed to ask.

"Taken care of… for the moment," Phillip said as he and two immortals Denara didn't know approached. Behind them… Denara saw three more unknown immortals.

The swordmaster then directed his attention to the old man.

"This thing will take us where we wish to go?"

"We have the coordinates. It is at your disposal." Portocullis bowed.

Phillip grunted. He lay one hand on Micah's shoulder. "Take charge here, lad. Keep the others safe and help direct the clean up. I or someone else will return shortly."

"Shouldn't we go with you?"

Phillip shook his head. Not this time." He climbed aboard with the two immortals Denara failed to recognize. The small ones backed away as the rotors began to whip through the air. The helicopter rose, circled, and headed off. The other three, a young woman and two men… one obviously a newbie watched as it left, and then headed off toward the village docks talking with one another. In the distance… Denara thought she could make out the approaching ferry.

"Wait until you hear what we did!" Madrigal said.

Denara's attention, however was on the departing helicopter. She only then noted that Portocullis had remained.

"Are you my Watcher?" she asked him.

The man bowed. "If you allow it."

Denara took a deep breath. "Just keep your distance," she finally lisped and clasped one small hand about Madrigal's. "Where's Valeraine? What happened to Nick?" She had a thousand questions. "Do you know about Ursa? Where is Phillip going? Who were those others?" The questions came fast and furious.

Madrigal squeezed her hand. "We know what happened… Now come along and we'll tell you everything." The five children, followed by the one stoop-shouldered old man… his hands clasped behind his back… ascended the hill toward Phillip's villa, each eager to tell a part of the story.


	115. Chapter 111

****

Chapter 111

Switzerland

Duncan slowed to a stop and peered cautiously at the van parked on the side of the road. The man pacing behind the van as he talked on a cellphone waved and continued to pace.

Duncan took a deep breath. "Wait here." He squeezed Amanda's hand and climbed out, an automatic in one hand.

The pacing man shut his phone off and eyed Duncan levelly. Finally he shook his head and offered a hand. "Name's Peter Ryan. Look… I don't really know what this is all about… but my boss is on his way and he says for me to give you every assistance."

Duncan returned the handshake, inwardly assessing the man's strong grip and forthright manner. "Military Ops," he murmured.

Ryan nodded and stepped back, a flicker of recognition was reflected in his momentary smile. "I did my time."

"Same here." Duncan relaxed his grip on the automatic and peered out over the mountain valley at the unassuming _chateau_ on the next slope. It had a steeply angled roof… and looked more like some skier's hotel than a fortified compound. A number of vehicles were parked in a lot and he noted people wandering about, apparently at ease. "Doesn't look too fortified. You're certain this is where they brought Kage?"

"This is where the vehicles that left Paris with the transponder signal came. By the time we were close enough to observe anything… they were parked on the outer edge of the lot."

"Could be a cover," Duncan sighed. If it was… if there were innocents between him and what he sought… then he feared people would die. Ellie's innate sense of location had also led straight here… but she'd indicated a much lower altitude. "I think there must be sub-levels."

"Likely. Burt's wife Amy said the facility in Paris had lower levels."

Duncan accepted the offered binoculars and scoped out the area. Behind him he heard the doors of the _Land Rover_ open and sensed Grace approach.

"Is he here?"

"He must be," Duncan reassured her. "Now all we need is a way in… preferably without killing people." He glanced back at vehicle as Ellie climbed out and stared across at the _chateau_. She stepped closely to the edge and seemed focused on what she sensed from there. Derrick stood behind her… his hands resting on her shoulders… a worried look about his face.

"Is this all the people you have?" Ryan asked.

Duncan smiled. "More are on their way. I've sent for all the reinforcements I can get." He chuckled. "My people are fierce warriors."

Ryan nodded. "Burt's on his way, too. Evidently he's bringing some people with him as well."

Duncan allowed a small knowing smile to flit across his face. "Let's just hope we have the time to wait."

"I pray he's all right… that they're all… all right," Grace said softly. She shivered in the brisk mountain air.

"Well I'm ready for whatever!" Cory added cheerfully as he slammed a door and alit stretching.

Duncan snorted and then felt Amanda slip an arm into his. He patted her hand as he glanced at Alisaunne still sitting in the _Rover_. "Is she all right?" he asked Amanda quietly.

"As far as I can tell. She just doesn't seem like the same girl."

"No," Duncan added thoughtfully, "She doesn't."

Alisaunne waved one hand about her head as if brushing away a persistent insect… but Duncan knew that no insect was there.

Ellie shook free of Derrick and suddenly stepped closer to the edge. She turned and met Duncan's gaze. "Something is horribly wrong in there. I don't think we can wait any longer."

"We don't have a choice. We're only seven…" He gestured toward Ryan who mouthed "four" to him… "eleven people. I don't care how good we are or how motivated… We can't get in there without a lot of people dying."

Ellie closed her eyes and whimpered. Again she thrust Derrick away from her. Her hands balled into fists. After a moment she stared once more across the gulf which separated her from where she needed to be. For a moment Duncan feared she might leap off the cliff in an attempt to get there. Instead she seemed to shake off the mood and turned toward him… her green eyes almost seeming to blaze with an inner fire. "The People _are_ dying!"

Swiftly she fought off Derrick's attempts to stop her and backed away hissing. "We _have _to go… now!" Ellie turned and began to run down the road.

As if suddenly aware of what was happening, Alisaunne scampered out of the Rover and clutched at Ellie as she passed. "No… You must wait!" the young woman insisted.

Ellie threw her off and resumed her chosen path. Suddenly she lifted her hands to her head and wailed! She collapsed in the road as Derrick knelt at her side and pulled her into his arms.

As Grace took Ellie's pulse, she shook her head. "I can barely sense her."

Derrick lifted his face and roared into the mountain air and Duncan feared it was already too late.

-----

**_Within the Dream_**

Methos wandered through the vision of the house in Scotland. It was as real as he could make it. It was real to his touch. He could trail his fingers over the wood trim and recall each scratch… each notch. He could feel the cool whitewashed walls… and smell the bread baking in the oven… the stew bubbling in the kettle over the open fire. It was a bulwark against the other visions … the ones he could not face. He clung to this reality to escape the horror of the other visions encroaching on this sanctuary. He could see Eleanor palely about the place… like a memory of some forgotten time. Sometimes she met his gaze and flickered more solidly, as if to say she was still with him… but mainly she was like a ghost… a phantom… a dream. As much as he'd wanted her here… he'd sent her away.

"Tell the others! Bring them! Before it's too late!" he'd told her sadly. Then he'd smiled at her. "Come back to me!" he'd whispered to her and smiled.

She'd laughed as she'd faded. He could still… even after all this time… hear her laughter… like tinkling bells… or was it only the wind-chime blowing in the gentle breeze outside the door.

"She is something, Brother!" Kronos snickered as he lounged in the window.

"You're dead and no part of me!" said Methos insistently, turning from him and focusing on the vision.

Kronos laughed, "But I am part of you, Brother!" He hopped from the windowsill and slapped Methos on the back as he stood regarding the flickering form of Eleanor beside the fire… combing her hair. He crossed his arms before him. "Didn't you know? You were there when the Highlander took my head. You got the smallest piece of me. We are one."

To Methos' right he heard the deep rumble of Silas. "Heh… heh… heh! The tiny one is like a small bird. Can I pet her Methos." Methos shuddered. Silas was within him… but Silas, he could control. Silas he had to control.

Caspian slunk about the room and leered over Eleanor's ghostly form. His long tongue flicked about the vision of her insubstantial form. His teeth bit as if to taste her. In his hands were knives.

"Remember, Brother," Kronos snickered. "We share everything… absolutely… everything."

"Caspian is not here!" insisted Methos.

"I brought him with me when I managed to join you. Didn't you know? We are brothers! We are one!" His laughter sounded like a brass gong clanging within Methos' head.

Outside… through the open window… Methos could here the screams of his victims as the horsemen road. Scotland faded… and the desert of the Bronze Age burned brightly in his mind.

"Join us freely brother!" Kronos whispered enticingly in Methos' ear. "Join us… and the world is ours."

Methos closed his eyes and focused within him… they'd breached this memory… he needed another one.

Opening his eyes he stood on rain-slick obsidian while in the distance a volcano spewed forth the essence of the earth and sprayed the lightning-lit night with plumes of molten fire.

"The quickening of the earth as it is assaulted," the voice said sadly.

Methos glanced down at Cassandra huddled on the rocks. "I have no memory of this place," he said, shaking his head.

"Yes you do. We all do. This was what it was like in the beginning. This is the world our forebears created for us."

Methos stared around and saw the standing stones in the flash of the lightning. About them ranged the bloodied corpses of the People.

He understood. This was the world he and the others had inherited after the great slaying… when the covenant of the People with earth, ocean, fire, and sky was first broken. Rain splashed about him… sizzling on the hot rocks of his feet.

He crouched beside Cassandra. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "I know it's not enough… that it can never be enough… but I _am_ sorry."

Cassandra let out a long breath. "That dream was not what happened. The truth lies somewhere between your indifference… and my terrors.

Methos nodded.

Cassandra met his gaze and reached out with one hand to lace her long slender fingers in his. "We are one. If we are to rise above this… if we are to rebuild the world… we must accept all that we are… and all that we were. We must acknowledge our fears, reach for our dreams, and face our shortcomings."

Methos nodded. He rose. Cassandra rose with him. "Together we must end this before our world is destroyed," he murmured.

Cassandra squeezed his hand.

Methos felt Eleanor slipping around him… hidden beneath his clothes… softly caressing his skin like cool silk in the heat of this reality. He smiled as he felt her lips brush his.

"We can't stay here," he said to both of them. "We have to face them on their plain… where they think they have the power."

Slowly the nightmare world faded and he found himself once more in the idyllic farmhouse in Scotland. Eleanor was still with him… Cassandra still gripped his hand. His brothers turned gleefully to face him.

"We are one, Brothers," Methos said in invitation. "We share everything."

They laughed raucously as they approached him… their eyes leering greedily at Cassandra and Eleanor. Methos closed his eyes and pulled them within him where they struggled for freedom and supremacy. Dreams of carnage… dreams of power… dreams of depravity washed over him. One by one he absorbed them and let the others help. The two immortal women were with him… their strength buoyed him… and kept him grounded. Neither turned away or shrieked in horror as they were assaulted by memories both real and imagined. They faced their fears and together they were stronger than they'd been alone.

As if in understanding, he felt the minds of the others… lost in the dream come to understand this as well. They reached out to strengthen him and to gain strength. Soon they ranged around him. All the others who like him were lost in the nightmare… some friend… some foe. "We are one!" They lent him their strength as he lent them his.

The farmhouse faded and Methos found himself in a mockup of the Roman Coliseum. In the galleries the faces of his victims sneered and mocked him. In one hand was a broadsword… in the other… a round shield. On the shield was an emblazoned goddess… the profile of Aja in bronze relief. Methos turned as a great shout and roaring applause went up from the gallery.

Into the arena stepped a man whose face he'd once seen … a blonde man, thin, hawk-like. In one hand was the trident… in the other the net. He raised his arms to the cheers of the crowd. He was their champion. He would avenge their deaths… and the deaths of all those who'd ever lived and died. He turned to face Methos and smiled with a bow.

"You are mortal," Methos told him. "You have no place here."

"But I do, Old One. It is high time we met," the other said as he began to circle. "I have long admired you… but a new day has arrived… and a new order will be born from this our meeting. At the end… only one of us will remain."

"You don't belong here," Methos insisted again as he crouched… letting the war-like Silas snarl and shift in feints about the arena. Above him, Methos still saw lightning streak across the sky. Kronos urged him to unleash Caspian. Methos shook his head, attempting to clear it and focus.

His opponent laughed. "I am what will remain when you are dead." He cast the net letting it settle over Methos… he pulled sharply.

Methos found his sword arm entangled. He pushed the shield upward and swirled it… attempting to catch the net about it. He pulled. With his sword he slashed at the net and hacked at the fibers to destroy it. But the fibers were like steel and would not sever. His sword was useless against the net ensnaring him.

Pivoting sharply he dragged the net with his shield and entangled it further… while attempting to push it off of him. His opponent circled… pulling the net ever tighter.

He let Caspian roar as he suddenly rushed his opponent. If he could not get free of the net… then he'd not try… he'd use the net to entangle his opponent. The man leaped swiftly to one side and thrust the trident deeply into Methos' back. From somewhere… as he fell to his knees and reached to pull the trident free… he thought he heard Eleanor scream.


	116. Chapter 112

****

Chapter 112

Mexico

Matt stared down at the swiftly moving desert landscape. He'd never much cared for flying in helicopters... maybe it was those rotors... so like swinging blades... above his head. For some reason... the idea of "death by chopper rotor" did not make him feel at ease.

Across from him lounged the dozing form of Donald Tremain. Like Matt and the military unit… he was garbed in battle fatigues. Diplomat by day he may be… but he was still a combat warrior. He'd insisted on leading the operation. Matt had not felt he was in any position to prevent it.

He'd been surprised at how swiftly things had come together. True… he'd dropped all the right words into his conversation with Tremain… making him think this was a major terrorist plot against the United States and that American lives hung in the balance. But, Matt had shrugged to himself, in a way it was all true… just not quite the truth.

The one worry he'd had was Katya and the others. Matt was not pleased with her report about what Jeremy had learned. Nor was he pleased that Katya's phone was evidently dead. He was cut off from them… and had no idea what he was leading this group of mortals into.

The chopper bounced in turbulence… and Matt saw lightning on the horizon.

"We're heading into a storm," the soldier next to him shouted over the noise.

Matt nodded. He feared that wasn't a normal storm… that an immortal had just died. His inclusion of a machete with his outfit had raised a few eyebrows… but Matt had no time to explain. He'd simply shrugged as if to say… "I like to have a good blade as back-up." He'd pulled on the body armor and also carried several automatic weapons. His targets were mortal… surely he'd not need the blade… but it was better to be safe than sorry. He hadn't lasted this long without being careful.

"So," the soldier shouted, "You're FBI! Tell me… do you work the X-Files?" he and several companions laughed.

Matt smiled benignly. "Not usually." It was an old joke that he'd run into occasionally. That nineties TV show was still a part of pop culture. Still… the truth was out there… but it was Matt's job not to expose it so much as to prevent others from finding it.

From up front, the pilot pointed downward. Matt could see the _hacienda_ in the distance… figures racing about. He held on for the descent and readied his weapons.

-----

****

A few hours earlier

Under cover of darkness, Katya, Jade and Amber slowly crept up on the _hacienda_. As yet there was no sign of movement, no lights… nothing that spoke of inhabitation.

They'd heard nothing further from Jeremy or the rescued Walter.

"We need to try and secure it against their return," Katya had finally decided. "If we can hold it against them until Matt and the military get here… perhaps we can insure that what is there… is still there for them to find."

"You don't think it might be an error to let outsiders see these things?" Amber had asked.

Katya shook her head. "We'll have to wipe the computers… or blow them… but they need to find the bodies. What would headless corpses tell them? If the Watchers take hold of the place again… they'll hide or destroy everything… and then the military will apologize for the intrusion and we'll be left without support."

"And Jeremy?" Jade's jawline indicated her clenched teeth. Her eyes glared at Katya.

"He knew he was heading into danger when he went. All we can do… is make certain his sacrifice means something."

Jade had sniffed and looked away. But she'd nodded in agreement.

"Let's pack up and go," Katya had ordered.

So here they were at the edge of the compound. Katya waved them forward as they raced to the main gates and swiftly secured them. They wouldn't hold long against a heavy, sustained attack… but it would delay the attackers. Maybe it would delay them long enough.

Their main worry was the helicopter's return. Katya had ordered Amber to take care of the computer files… while Jade was to stand guard over the morgue's inhabitants. "Those bodies have to be found," the immortal said quietly. She was to set up on the _hacienda_ roof with their heaviest firepower… and hope it was enough. She needed an advantage… she just hoped her sniper's training would be the advantage they needed.

-----

Jeremy wrapped the torn sleeve of his shirt about the cell phone and the computer disk and buried it deeply in the earth, setting a rock on the re-filled hole. He nudged the sleeping Walter.

"It's time," Jeremy said.

"Time? Are they coming?" Walter said groggily looking around.

"They are."

"Blast! How do they know where we're hiding?"

Jeremy smiled. "I'd say you're telling them."

"Me?"

"There must be a tracker on you somewhere."

Walter rubbed hands through his hair. "Where? I can't find anything."

Jeremy shrugged. "Does it matter?" He stretched out prone on the dirt and pointed the barrel of the automatic toward the horizon where the chopper was approaching.

Walter picked up his bone saw and stared at it and then at Jeremy's rifle.

"I say… you wouldn't have another of those… would you? I fear this," he held up his weapon, "will only be useful close in."

"Sorry," said Jeremy as he sighted. "I don't even think this will be of any actual help… but I'm not about to give it up." He aimed… letting the image grow in the crosshairs of the site. He waited until he could make out the rotor housing. His mind reached back for the military training he'd had a few times in the past. Usually he'd stayed out of the way of such things... except when it was peacetime… and he could use the cover of military to learn new weapons and techniques. He'd had a bit of sniper training several decades ago… perhaps it would prove useful. He let his breath out and slowly squeezed on the trigger. First one shot… and then a multitude erupted finding their target.

The chopper tilted to one side and the blades tilted at an angle so great… that it seemed impossible they could hold. They didn't.

Spinning out of control… the chopper hovered over the desert and then began to rise at a steep angle. The rotor blades spun free… bouncing and flinging through the desert as they continued to whip. The chopper hesitated and then descended like a dropped stone.

"Ohhh… nooooo!" Walter said, as he hugged the dirt… raising his hands over his head.

The blades spun past him… just inches from his head and slammed into the _saguaro_… splattering everything with fluid. After decapitating the cacti… the blades continued their spinning motion.

Jeremy likewise hugged the earth… feeling the moving air from the blades. Thankfully… cacti were their only victims.

Once the rotors had passed them by… Jeremy rose up on his elbows and sited toward the downed chopper. Men were emerging… a few were limping or holding arms at awkward positions… but most scrambled out… crouching in the sand… weapons at ready. He counted at least twelve men total.

"Damn!" he hissed under his breath. He flipped to single shot and sited carefully. He took careful aim and fired. Then he fired again… then once more. By then he knew they'd have a bead on his position. He rolled quickly to his left three times until he was behind a severed _saguaro_. He aimed once more and fired again.

Bullets peppered the ground about him. One lanced into his shoulder. Jeremy hissed, flinching at the pain. "_It always hurts!_" he thought and squeezed off two more shots, before another bullet hit him in the head.

-----

Walter waited quietly until the armed men began their approach. He lay very still… as if dead. He'd have maybe one chance to take some of them out… but only if he waited. He'd not liked being used. He still didn't know how they'd used him… and right now it didn't matter. He just wished Dexter had let him have his sword… but he'd make do… he'd have to.

Voices… laughter… Walter made no move. A gun barrel pushed at him. He kept his eyes closed and shifted with the nudge. His weapon was held tightly in his hand… beneath his body.

"_Come on_," Walter thought, "_Laugh and move on… don't shoot… I'm dead_."

The crunch of footsteps on the sandy soil told him the man had turned. Walter took a long slow breath and tightened his grip on the bone saw... then he leapt up... swinging. "_If I can get my hands on his weapon_," he thought, "_I might have a chance!_"

The swinging bone saw connected with the man's mid-section. Walter grabbed the automatic from the man's suddenly lax hands and began firing at anyone who moved even as he felt bullets enter his body and he tasted the coppery sensation of blood in his mouth. He kept firing… aware that one man had raised a machete over Jeremy's head and was preparing to strike. He fired… even as he fell to his knees and slumped over to one side. He fired… as a raining hail of bullets hit him until the darkness claimed him… and his consciousness fled deep into the blackness that seemed to foretell the end.

-----

Katya saw what looked like quickening rise on the southern horizon. She lowered her head and closed her eyes. "_We are all going to die!_" she thought. And with that… she limbered up and re-focused her attention through the site of the sniper's rifle. Two of the trucks were returning. She could see armed men hanging off the sides.

She felt a presence and noted that Amber had climbed up to join her. "I've trashed the computers so completely… I doubt anything can be recovered and set fire to all the paper records I could find."

"Did you get everything?"

Amber shrugged. "All I could find." She noted the approaching trucks. "Where do you want me, now?"

Katya wiped the perspiration for her eyes and concentrated. "How about behind the gate?"

Amber nodded and prepared to leave.

"Amber!" Katya called after her, then smiled as the young immortal turned, the question clear in her eyes. "It's been nice knowing you."

Amber chuckled. "Aye… friendship among our kind is rare. Despite it all… I have enjoyed it." she slipped off the side of the roof, landing in a crouch in the courtyard as she headed for the main gate.

By the time she was set… the trucks were close enough and Katya fired swiftly to take out four men… before they could react.

The trucks braked to a stop and turned to form a barrier as the Watchers hid behind them… there would be no more easy targets.

"At least," Katya thought, "I've slowed your return." She shifted position trying to get another clear shot.

Below in the courtyard… Amber took a position and waited.

Within the _hacienda_… Jade heard the shots. She secured the heavy steel door to the morgue and waited, shivering in the coolness of the room. "_I'm going to die protecting the bodies of people I don't know… in hopes that their bodies will be found by the right people!_" Anyone trying to get entrance in here… would have a hard time of it. She stared at the gun in her hands and then lay it to one side. "_If I die… it will be as I lived…_" she thought… and drew the rapier Matt had given her on their flight south. It was well made… elegant… and she'd yet to have a chance to really use it. Now… she would.

-----

The helicopters hovered over the _hacienda_. "Put down your weapons!" Tremain's voice rang out with authority over the speakers. "Surrender and no one will be hurt. This is a combined US/Mexican task force."

Shots from the trucks before the gate pinged against the choppers.

"Fire!" shouted Tremain.

A rocket launched from the lead chopper and exploded ten feet from the trucks.

When the roar of the explosion died away, Tremain calmly continued. "Next time I won't miss. Surrender immediately."

Hands went up and the figures dropped their weapons and knelt in the sand.

The other chopper landed and the soldiers emerged to take control of the attackers.

Matt leaned forward and tapped Tremain on the shoulder motioning for him to hand him the microphone.

"This is the FBI… all within the _haciend_a… stand down." He saw two figures wave and drop weapons. Handing the microphone back he yelled at Tremain, "Evidently the people I left behind as observers entered to maintain a holding action."

"Are they FBI?"

Matt shook his head. "They're friends… just friends."

The chopper set down in the courtyard. The soldiers emerged first. Matt climbed out and waved at Amber… on her knees, her hands behind her head, and grinning widely. "Welcome back to the party… Agent McCormick. I like the friends ya brought."

Matt motioned the soldiers away and Amber rose. He hugged her and looked about. Katya rose on the roof and waved. Matt returned the gesture… feeling a great deal of relief. He looked at Amber. "I saw a storm on the horizon… Jeremy?"

Amber nodded. "Maybe. He and Walter Graham… the man he liberated. They headed south."

Matt turned to Tremain and quickly explained that there was an additional action going on further south. Tremain barked orders to the men inside the compound. They re-loaded the chopper and headed off.

Matt assisted Amber in opening the gate as Katya and Jade emerged from within the _hacienda_. On the grounds outside… the military had the Watchers well in hand.

Matt raced for the trucks… already feeling the buzz of several immortals. Some yet lived! They'd managed to save a few. Inside each of the trucks were three drugged immortals and some unarmed medical personnel. He motioned the medical people out and climbed into one of the trucks. He'd have to awaken them slowly… one at a time… and hope they would listen to what he had to say. This was no time and no place for any challenges… no matter whom he found.

He was aware that Amber had climbed into the other truck and that Jade and Katya were on their way. Taking a deep breath… Matt pulled out the IV on the first immortal… and waited. Katya winked at him from the truck's rear… and turned to stand guard.

The immortal's eyes flickered open.


	117. Chapter 113

****

Chapter 113

Outside the Watcher Compound, Switzerland

"She's alive,"Grace explained further, "It's just I don't really sense her right now." She lay a reassuring hand on the howling Derrick. "It's as if she's mortal."

"She's not mortal," Alisaunne insisted as she knelt at Eleanor's side. "She just needs our strength." Clasping hands with Grace, Duncan, Amanda and Cory… Alisaunne focused on Eleanor and the fading sense of her that she still had.

Peter Ryan scratched his head as he watched the group gather around the collapsed woman. "What the…?" he murmured wonderingly. He looked up as he saw a harrier jet… approach on the horizon… and hover over the compound… then settle down. He reached to shake MacLeod's shoulder. "We got company."

MacLeod pulled back and rose. Grabbing Ryan's binoculars, he focused on the men alighting from the helicopter. "I don't know them." He handed the binoculars back to Ryan who peered through them. "That's Burt!"

He punched a number into his cell phone. "Hey boss. On the mountain. Yeah..." he handed the phone to Duncan. "My boss wants to talk to you."

"This is Duncan MacLeod."

"MacLeod… I'm Joe Dawson's son-in-law, Burt Meyers. We've never met. We're here to help you take this place back with as little loss of life as possible. Pierre Gautier sends his compliments."

"We're on our way." Duncan glanced at the others. "Grace… you wait here with Derrick and Ellie. The rest of you… come with me. We have some work to do."

Grace stood, and he saw something harden in her expression. "I am not some helpless female, Duncan MacLeod… so get off your white charger. John is down there… and I _will_ be in the assault."

"I can't reach her," Alisaunne mumbled as she stood. "I thought if we all tried… maybe I could. But there's nothing any of us can do now… except get down there."

Duncan nodded. "Derrick… you stay here with Ellie."

The young man shook his head as he struggled to his feet… Ellie in his arms. "She needs Methos. That means we have to get her down there. I'll look after her. I promised him I would."

"No!" Duncan snapped. "This is not your fight!"

Derrick smiled. "But it is… and you know it. She needs Adam. I need to get her there. I can fight, Duncan. I'll protect her… but I need to get her down there."

"Look," Ryan interrupted. "I have no idea what you people are talking about… With Burt's group taking control… I rather doubt there will be much of a fight."

Duncan turned to face the mercenary. "You have no idea what's going on… here… and there _will _be a fight." He turned to his party… "Let's go… and… watch your heads."

-----

By the time their van had descended the mountain and reached the _chateau_… another chopper had arrived. As MacLeod pulled into the parking lot… he first felt and then saw Phillip's presence amongst the new arrivals.

MacLeod crossed the lot to grasp the Swordmaster by the arm. "Couldn't stay away… could you?"

"That's me MacLeod. Look for me unexpectedly in strange places." He was nearly bowled over by Amanda's embrace.

"I was so worried about you and the others," she said warmly. "Why are you here?"

Phillip gave her a sad look. "We were attacked on Niebos."

Amanda pulled back. "Who?"

Phillip sighed and glanced around. "We lost Luke in the initial battle. Later, we lost Ursa, and… finally Nick."

Amanda paled. MacLeod grabbed his arm. "Nestor?"

"Contained for the moment."

"Hello MacLeod."

Duncan looked up at Reagan Cole and chuckled. "Why am I not surprised."

Reagan winked. "Phillip's an old acquaintance. And this…" she pulled the young immortal behind her up… "is Keith Boyer. Keith… this is Duncan MacLeod… the Highlander."

Keith nodded curtly. "So… is it all over?"

A thin hawkish man in his forties joined them. "Burt Meyers," he said as he held one hand out to MacLeod. "We've control of the surface area… but the elevators to the lower levels where we believe your friends are being held… have been locked down. Ryan…" he turned to Peter Ryan. "Position your people to help and coordinate."

"Show me," Duncan said and followed Burt into the _chateau_ and across the wide lobby to the elevator shafts.

A small man wearing coveralls glanced up. "They've over-ridden my commands. Those cars are not coming up."

"How far down?" Duncan asked.

"Maybe a hundred feet or so. I was only down there once… and that was years ago. It's a cavernous room carved out of the bedrock of the mountain. There are two elevator entrances… this one and a cargo one. That one is also locked down."

"Ventilation?" Duncan pressed, staring about at the obvious tubes above him.

"A separate system from this one, I think."

A woman also in coveralls raced up… schematics in hand. "This is all I could find in the director's office."

Duncan snatched them and unrolled them. Phillip grasped one side and stared at the plans. "Ever do any mountain climbing, MacLeod?" He met Duncan's gaze with a wink.

"Quite a bit over the years." Duncan glanced at Burt. "We need rappelling equipment. Phillip and I have to get down there."

Burt called out commands to the people standing around. Soon… one of them had brought some equipment. By that time, Phillip and Duncan had stripped off outerwear and strapped their swords to their backs along with automatics. So had Amanda.

"No!" Duncan said.

"Duncan… I'm the best high-wire aerialist in the group. Trust me… this will be a cakewalk. Besides… someone has to hack into the car's internal computer and get it moving again."

Keith raised one hand. "Uh... that would be me… but I've never done ropework before."

"Exactly…" snapped Amanda. "Wire me to him so he can help me out with the hacking. You two can hold off the attackers while I get the car back to the surface for support."

Burt snapped his fingers and Amanda was handed an earpiece and fiber mike. Keith was handed another one.

"You just better be that good!" Amanda told the young man.

Reagan grinned. "He's not much of a fighter… but computers…" she winked. "He's the best there is."

"Phillip and I will hold them off, Amanda. Then you join us and send the car up. The rest of you… he eyed the immortals… be the first ones down. We don't know what we'll find down there… so be ready for anything. Then send the car back for Burt's people." He met Burt's eyes. "You do know what we are." Burt nodded.

The two coveralled engineers had pried the elevator doors open. Alarms had gone off as they'd done so.

Phillip sighed. "They'll be ready for us. You and me MacLeod… in case they're in the car. Amanda… you'll be next. We'll give you as much time as we can."

Phillip leaned over and kissed the unconscious Eleanor's forehead and squeezed Derrick's arm. "Look after her lad. I'll find him and bring him back." He pulled on the heavy leather gloves and saluted the boy.

Derrick nodded.

Duncan hooked his gear to the cables and jumped off into the shaft, falling twenty feet before being snapped up sharply as the nylon rope played out. Now he'd slowly work his way down. Phillip followed. Hand over hand they headed down into the darkness along the elevator car's connections. The small window of light above… became smaller and smaller. Faster and faster they descended… and the feel of immortality grew in the darkness.

"At least they are alive," gasped Phillip at one point."

"Let's hope they stay that way," Duncan responded and then looked up. He could feel Amanda on her way down. "She's fast."

"Then we need to be faster," Phillip said. He rehooked his gear and leaped off into the shaft again… suffering the near backbreaking snap when the rope played out. Duncan did the same. Then they gathered the rope and rehooked themselves for another leap… and then another. By this time… the only light either of them saw was the infrequent red service lights. And the heat in the shaft was rising.

"Do you think it's intentional," Phillip asked at one stop. He wiped one hand across his brow.

"I think it's just the lack of air movement and the descent into the earth. Duncan swept one gloved hand over the smooth rockface of the shaft. "Wonder what they used to cut this passage?"

Phillip snorted. "Does it matter?"

Duncan shook his head. "Nope…" and they leapt again into the darkness.

-----

**__**

Within the Dream

Methos twisted away from the trident… managing to keep a tight grip on the sword in his hands. He shuddered as he drew a ragged breath.

His opponent laughed. "I've studied all your moves. I'm ready for you." He pulled back the trident and prepared to lash forward with it one more time…

From off to one side… he was suddenly attacked by an angry creature. She'd leaped like a small bundle of fury onto Methos' attacker. Her hands clawed at his opponent's face… her teeth clamped onto his neck.

Methos drew a ragged breath as he realized that somehow… Eleanor had materialized within the dream. As his opponent fell… the man yelled, "Pull me out!" and his form shimmered and faded to nothing.

Eleanor rose… her eyes darting about… her hands clenching and unclenching. Then she backed toward Methos. Crouching beside him she lightly touched his healing back. "Now that looks nasty."

"What kept you?" smirked Methos… already feeling stronger as he regained his feet and pulled her up with him.

"Ah… you know," she shrugged. "I never learned to fly."

"Should you be here? If I die in this… so will you."

"Then we die together," she smirked and kissed him lightly before turning to gaze at the nightmare landscape. "He'll be back… and he'll be stronger the next time. And my presence won't surprise him."

Methos flexed the sword. "Can you arm yourself?"

Eleanor closed her eyes and extended one arm. For a moment she concentrated. Finally she opened them again with a sigh. "Evidently not."

Methos pulled her to stand behind him as he began to circle. "Watch my back then."

"Always," Eleanor laughed.

-----

****

Watcher Laboratory

Henry Rawlins thrashed on the table and hissed as he grabbed Wilderman by the neck. "What was that?"

Wilderman blanched. "I don't know. The readings spiked. Perhaps his dream partner?"

Rawlins released the scientist and lay back gasping… attempting to orient himself. Wilderman had insisted that they were moving too fast… but after seeing the success of his men in pulling the immortal essence and quickening of the dreamers into themselves… after seeing their remarkable healing… Rawlins hadn't wanted to wait.

"Link me to one of the younger ones. I'll take his and then go back in. I want this one's knowledge!"

Wilderman's mouth moved up and down, but no words issued forth. Finally he nodded and turned to an assistant to have another specimen prepared.

Rawlins turned his head to observe the placid face of number 47. "Enjoy your little interlude. I'll return shortly! _You_… are mine."

A few minutes later… Henry Rawlins entered the dream again… and this time… the immortal he faced was no match for him. Filled with power that seemed to crackle and flow through his veins… he laughed maniacally. Lifting a hand as he withdrew from the scenario… he lifted one hand in wonder.

"It's done," a flustered Wilderman opined. "Now this is enough. Please Director… Let's stop. I desperately need to review the data we've collected so far."

Rawlins narrowed his eyes. "Hervé!" he snapped at one of his men. "If this man does not do what he is told… kill him."

Hervé grinned. He drew his sword and turned to Wilderman with a sneer. There was a wild madness in his eyes, as of something unleashed that had long been contained. "Hear that little man," he hissed. "Death awaits you."

A fearful Wilderman apparently agreed and began to bark orders to his assistant. Rawlins heard the scientist mumble under his breath, "This would be easier with Dr. Romney."

"No one is irreplaceable, Wilderman… not even you. Now get on with it." He felt the drugs enter his system… felt the armor appear on his body. Once more he returned to the arena. This time he towered over the loin-clothed immortal and his partner… and this time… there was a massive sword in his hand.

-----

Upstairs in the office, Claire Romney finally found the courage to sit up. She was cold… and the pain had become a never-ending ache. She stumbled to the private bathroom… noticing the blood in her urine. There was clearly some internal bleeding. Staring into the mirror as she turned the water on and reached for a towel… she noted that one eye was completely red… while the other was so swollen shut from the beating so could barely see out of it.

She soaked the towel and then began to gently wipe her face of the blood. She grimaced slightly at the loose teeth. For some reason they seemed to hurt the worse. She had a feeling her jaw was broken, too. "Bastard!" she thought.

Idly she ran her fingers through her tangled hair… matted with blood. Finding a comb, she began to gingerly comb through it… wincing at the pain. She lowered her head to the sink and began to wash some of the dried blood away… noting also the fresh scarlet drops of new blood in the stainless steel bowl.

Turning the faucet off… she dried her face and toweled her hair. There was little improvement in her appearance. She considered a shower… but feared that if she removed the remains of her clothing… he'd do more than just beat her when he returned.

She fiddled with her clothes, attempting to re-order them. Several of the buttons on her blouse were gone… but with the few that remained… she held it closed… and dabbed at the blood spatters. Satisfied that she had done all she could in that regard… she tucked it into her skirt and smoothed everything.

One hand rested on her swelling abdomen. She had a feeling the internal bleeding was severe. She'd likely be dead by nightfall without medical assistance. Re-entering the office… Claire stood over the dead corpse of her predecessor and wondered how she had managed to stay alive so long.

Crossing to his desk… she flipped on his bank of monitors and settled into the desk chair to observe what was happening. Taking note of his black-garbed henchman slapping one another on the back and posturing about the laboratory… Claire realized that Rawlins had instigated the final phase. His cadre of new immortals was now ready. Somehow she doubted that helping mankind was on their minds. The way they moved… they were focused on world domination.

She saw Rawlins linked to number 47… Methos! Despite his name appearing in none of the records here… Claire had understood that this immortal was the eldest… and likely the most powerful. She turned to his computer… Long ago… when this was Julius Wilderman's office… the doctor had linked this to the set-up below. Her broken jaw wouldn't let her smile… but Claire Romney's eyes were bright. No one knew this set up as well as she did… and maybe… just maybe… she could arrange a little surprise for the director.

She was vaguely aware of klaxons blaring as her fingers moved over the keyboard and into the programming of the system.


	118. Chapter 114

****

Chapter 114

Watcher Compound, Switzerland

Duncan's booted feet made contact finally with the roof of the elevator car. He grimaced at the small _thud _and then stepped to one side as Phillip likewise arrived. The immortal buzz was almost overwhelming.

"There must be dozens of us in there," murmured Phillip softly as he unbuckled the gear and stepped out of it.

"Just be ready," Duncan replied. He knelt by the access panel… his automatic ready in his hand. Phillip silently finger counted to three and then the two of them flipped the access panel open and leaned back… fully expecting a rain of bullets.

There was nothing.

Duncan peered carefully over the edge.

"The car doors are closed… it looks empty." He lowered himself into the car… followed by the Greek. Duncan could feel the immortals on the far side of the door. It felt like a torrent within his head. He shook it.

Phillip laughed. "So many in one place! I fear that there may be heads taken before this is over! Ready?"

Amanda lowered herself into the car. "I'm in," she said to Boyer over the microphone. She gracefully stepped out of the harness and crossed to the access panel pulling out a hand-held and cabling it to a port. She winked at Phillip and blew Duncan a kiss.

Just then… the car doors opened. Duncan aimed… then fired at the two black-garbed men. They staggered back and ran hands over their rapidly healing chests. Then they looked at Duncan triumphantly.

"What the…?" Duncan said lowering his weapon. "They're not immortals."

"No… but there is something," replied Phillip as drew his sword with a grin. "It's been a long time since I've so looked forward to a battle. Ready, Highlander?"

"More than ready," Duncan replied drawing his _katana_. He met Amanda's eyes. "Get this car running. Phillip and I will keep them busy."

Amanda nodded and watched them exit… their swords already swinging. She punched in an override code to force the car's doors shut once more; then she focused on the screen of the hand-held… and the voice of Keith Boyer in her ear.

-----

Duncan swung his _katana_ in an uppercut and then pivoted as it met the solid swing of his opponent's broadsword. The man had blocked the move perfectly. He could feel the weak hum about this one… similar to but not the same as a pre-immortal. He lashed out with the _katana_ again and also managed to grab the man's head. He lifted one knee and slammed the head into it.

His opponent staggered back and shook his head. Duncan slashed him across the chest. Again his opponent staggered back… the gash already healing. "Accelerated healing… just great!" Duncan mumbled as he launched a flurry of moves on the man… forcing him backward to the railing of a catwalk. He landed several good blows… all of which his opponent gradually shook off.

Duncan paused, aware that more of these bastard immortals were on their way. "I don't think they believe in one-on-one!" he yelled to Phillip as he slashed again at his opponent and then shouldered him so that he fell to the floor of the cavern below. He landed half atop an unconscious immortal female on a gurney and then bounced to the floor. Almost immediately he stood… shook his head and stretched. Pointing upward at Duncan he thrust a white-coated woman and medical equipment out of his way as he clambered to get back to the fight.

"Don't these guys die," Duncan said as he observed him and then turned to face the next onslaught.

"Watch my back, Highlander!" Phillip said as he grabbed his opponent by the hair and pulled him low. With one swing he removed the head. The body fell. Phillip raised the head. "I rather think they die the same way we do!"

No quickening erupted.

Duncan grinned as Phillip tossed the head at the nearest of their next opponents. "And no quickening to weaken us!"

"Let's slice and dice then!" Phillip laughed and charged the nearest man. Duncan had only a moment to note Phillip's swift and economical moves as he shifted through three men… neatly beheading two of them before being brought up short by the third.

Duncan managed to slash that man across his back, before being set upon by two more. He focused on his own battle, trusting the Swordmaster to manage his. One thing was for certain… they needed help… and soon.

"_C'mon Amanda!_" Duncan thought. "_Get that car running!_"

-----

"Success!" yelled Amanda into the mike even as she pulled the computer connection loose and ripped the mike from her ear. She punched door open and then the button for the Lobby. She slipped through the opening doors of the car and into the fight of her life. Duncan had told her to wait… but Amanda was never good at following his orders. Besides… she had a feeling he needed help now.

-----

When the elevator doors opened at the main lobby, Reagan piled into the car with the other immortals. "Follow us next trip!" she yelled at Burt Meyers.

Alisaunne pulled both of her swords… she bounced on the balls of her feet… eager to be in the fray. The peace of the ancient had been fading the further from Paris she'd come. Nestor was a silent presence in the back of her mind… as he had been for much of her immortal life… present… but not active… waiting.

Keith and Grace limbered up as the car descended… their own blades in their hands. Grace had never fought many… and Keith was young, but experienced. Reagan wondered how well they'd do. Still… they likely would need both of them.

The elevator slowed its descent and came to a soft landing. The doors opened. Alisaunne leaped through them at the sound of steel on steel.

"Bout time!" Duncan yelled as a head hit the iron grating of the catwalk. "Take heads… nothing else kills them!" he slashed downward with a fierce double-handed stroke and another head rolled. Immediately he turned to face another opponent.

Alisaunne whirled like a dervish. Something of the style of Ahmoud Hassan flared in her movements before she settled into the solid routines that Duncan had taught her. "_That's why we take their heads!_" she thought, as she slashed and thrust at the bigger opponent. "_We need the knowledge and strength of the other immortals to add to our own as we face stronger and stronger opponents._" These strange mortals who healed were not what she wanted. They offered nothing… they were only an impediment to the game. She slashed the small _katana_ down one-handed on a neck… satisfied that the head had rolled and turned eagerly to the next one… slashing his midsection deeply with her _wakizachi_. The burly man stepped back… almost in wonder as he observed his healing. Alisaunne was not impressed. She smiled as his headless body slumped to the floor.

Reagan used all the skill she had accumulated in the past few hundred years… and she still wondered at the skill some of these men had. They moved and sliced as if they'd been doing it for centuries. She stumbled back… aware that she was bleeding. Unlike these monsters… she didn't heal so quickly. What was up with that? They were immortal… yet not immortal… and below her… she could sense immortals.

A quickening rose to her left and she shuddered in the face of it as Keith Boyer's life force lanced into her. The young man's computer savvy raced through her mind in the form of code that seemed written in fire. Vaguely, Reagan heard Duncan shout for someone to watch her back until she recovered. "Damn!" she thought. "They neither release a quickening… nor accept one as we do!"

As she fell to her knees gasping. A head rolled on the grating before her. She looked up at Phillip's wink and struggled to her feet once more… determined that no more of their party should fall.

-----

Grace had not faced a challenge in years… but she'd practiced on her own… especially as she'd realized that John would not pick up a sword nor face a challenge ever again. She had… in many ways… accepted the mantle of protecting him within the game… even as he protected her in other ways. For once… she'd had no illusions about white knights or fairy tales. She'd understood that for them both to survive… she'd needed to fight. So now she was fighting… for them both… and for their future.

It surprised her how easy this became within minutes… slicing the heads from this horde of monsters that were and were not immortal. The scientist in her longed to get a look at the data on these men… their DNA… She longed to know how this had been accomplished. The immortal in her was sickened. They felt wrong… like something sick and putrid on her senses. She reached deep within her for all the skill she'd ever had on her own… and all the skill of the opponents she'd defeated. She would need everything to face them down. She needed to survive… for John.

-----

When the elevator car returned to the Lobby… Derrick lifted the unconscious Ellie into his arms and stepped aboard along with Meyers, Ryan, and a small party.

"Is this wise?" Meyers said, his brows pursed in worry.

"I need to get her down there," Derrick replied. Inside… he was aware that he'd likely have to use the sword hanging at his side. He shifted Ellie over one shoulder and drew the great sword… flexing it before him.

Ryan smirked. "What is it with these guys and swords?"

"It's the way we live," Derrick said sadly. "It's the way we die." He felt the car descend and flexed the great sword in his hand. Moments later… the car slowed.

"I'll go first!" Burt ordered. "Then my men." He eyed the boy levelly. "Send the car back up before you exit."

Derrick nodded.

Burt pulled a machete out. He'd ordered all of his men to wear them… and now he feared they might die unless they understood to use them. The elevator doors opened onto a melee straight out of hell. A head flew into the car and slammed against the rear wall.

"Jesus!" shouted Ryan.

"Shoot and behead anyone who didn't come down on the car!" Burt yelled as he raced to join the fight. Visions of Avril Mishkov danced at the edge of his mind.

-----

Within the office… Claire Romney still sat focused on the computer code. She'd managed to unlock the passenger elevator doors so that entry was now possible. She couldn't save everyone… hell… she couldn't save herself… She wiped the fresh blood dripping from her broken nose from the keyboard and refocused on the data streaming from the one scenario still operating. She didn't need the visual to understand what was happening… she could see it in the code. After all… she'd written much of it. And… there was the backdoor… and the links. She focused on opening them… and releasing her little surprise.

The office door burst open as two combatants slammed into it and then onto the carpeted floor of the office. She glanced up only momentarily as Scott turned to get his broadsword up over his head. The immortal… Duncan MacLeod… she thought… grimly sliced his _katana_ horizontally and pulled back as Scott's head rolled. He eyed Claire. She slowly raised her hands.

Then his eyes saw the body on the floor. A look of recognition crossed his face. "Meaghann?" he murmured quietly. He stared again at Claire, blanching a bit when he realized how badly she, too, had been beaten.

"He killed her because she fought back," Claire managed to slur; aware that her broken jaw was preventing her from saying too much.

"Can you stop this?"

Claire shrugged, ignoring the pain. "I can try." She re-focused on the keyboard aware that MacLeod had left to rejoin the fight. She kept working on the links… aware that she was getting dizzy… aware that black spots were peppering what remained of her vision… aware that the code was becoming a blur.

"_I don't have enough time!_" she thought as she coughed and blood splattered the monitor and the keyboard. Hurriedly… before the darkness of what was likely her death overwhelmed her… she typed in run and slumped back in the chair… her head lolling… her hands dropping uselessly to her sides. Her last thought was that she hoped it was enough.

-----

****

Mexico

Matt's explanations had been met with confusion… and occasional hostility. Finally he'd aroused each immortal in the van. "There are mortal authorities outside… be careful what you say… and for God's sake… let's not have any unpleasantness."

Three sets of eyes focused suspiciously on him and on each other.

"You've no clothes and no weapons. Just stay calm for the moment." He climbed out of the truck. Letting out a deep breath… he smiled at Katya. "Didn't I tell you to wait outside?"

She shrugged. "I got tired of waiting. Besides, I wanted to be certain the bodies would still be here when you returned. I had to keep them from destroying the evidence."

Amber jumped down from the other truck. "I wonder where the third truck is?"

Matt shook his head. "Not a clue! I sent Tremain out to scout in the direction I saw that quickening earlier. He was aware that Jade's eyes were red. Matt reached to comfort her… and she leaned against him… sobbing.

Katya looked toward the south. "I only saw one go off… not two."

"If one was dead…" Matt replied grimly, "Would a second go off when they killed him as well? I doubt it."

Behind him… sheet-wrapped immortals began emerging from the trucks and gazing around… blinking in the late afternoon sun. He hoped they remained cognizant of just how public they all were at the moment… and let him do the talking.

-----

Donald Tremain saw the crashed chopper and the injured men. Ordering the bird to be set down in the sandy soil… he exited… with his men… and firmly took control. Within the crashed chopper… the pilot sat strapped and unconscious. About it… five badly hurt men surrendered without a problem. Tremain strode to the other area.

On the ground lay seven dead bodies… most shot multiple times… and one headless body. He knelt at the edge of the blood drying darkly and seeping into the sand. "Headless?" he wondered. Tremain had a feeling far more was going on here than he'd been told.

One of his men shouted as a pile of bodies heaved. Tremain rose… holding up one hand for them to wait. A bloody hand rose from the pile and flinched in the air.

"Get those bodies off of him," snapped Tremain, "We got a live one."

Nearby… another body groaned and shifted in the sand. Tremain yelled for the medic. Moments later he was on the horn back to the other chopper with a call for Agent McCormick. "I've someone here who wants to speak to you, Agent," Tremain snapped and handed the mike to the thin wiry man standing before him.

"Matt?" Jeremy Dexter said. "What kept you?"

Over the horn… Tremain could swear he heard a woman sobbing with relief.


	119. Chapter 115

Chapter 115

Watcher Compound, Switzerland

Derrick exited the car still holding Ellie on one shoulder. Somehow in all of this madness he had to find Methos… He slashed with the great sword… aware that the attacker seemed to reverberate on his senses like something putrid. Derrick felt the sword enter the man's side and slice through them. The boy swallowed his rising bile as the body thumped to the ground and twitched as if trying to rise once more. He angrily kicked part of it away.

Old memory filled him for a moment of hacking away at men as he made his way across the battlefield. "That's not me!" Derrick whispered through gritted teeth, and stepped back to gauge the fighting. These men were good… giving even the Swordmaster a strong fight… and they did not follow the rules. This was an all-out battle.

The mortals who'd accompanied Derrick down in the car… blanched in the face of the calm-faced savagery of their attackers. When another of the strange black-garbed men rushed at Derrick… he calmly sliced away an arm and watched the man fall. Then he stepped over his fallen opponent and headed for the stairs.

When another leaped at him… Derrick impaled and shoved him off with one raised foot. He wasn't here to fight… he wasn't here to kill… he was here to get Ellie to Methos.

Some inner sense warned him to turn. He did so just in time to stop a strike at his back. He blocked the stroke and pushed the man backwards… thrusting the great sword into him. Alisaunne whirled on his opponent's right and neatly sliced off the head as Derrick once more pulled the sword free.

"I'll cover your back!" she yelled. "Get her to my father!"

Derrick nodded. By this time… he'd reached the stairs. Swiftly… with one hand holding tightly to Ellie… he raced down the metal stairs… three at a time. Already he could see the final two men below him… waiting for him. Around them… white-coated men and women raced in confusion and terror. Above him… the sounds of the battle were fading as the immortals… with their centuries of experience… finally began to make inroads on these strange immortal men.

As he reached the final landing before the last descent… he felt Alisaunne leap over the railing behind him and land on the cavern's floor. Immediately… one of the two men focused an assault on her… while the other met Derrick's gaze with a dark smirk.

"You're not immortal!" the man said and flexed his broadsword.

"No," replied Derrick as his feet hit the stone floor and he rushed the man… the great sword flashing as he turned his arm in an uppercut. The man, an Oriental, jumped back unhurt and laughed. Then with both hands on his Chinese sword… attacked with a pattern of back and forth slashes. Derrick was forced to back up and defend. He would need both his hands against this one… and he dare not put Ellie down.

For a moment, Derrick faltered. The memories of battles fought long ago shimmered about him. He felt the need to toss her to one side and attack. He blinked the other away. What was it Methos had made him promise? What was it he'd taught him? Not to attack… but to always let there be something more about his abilities than what the other suspected.

The memory of an another voice whispering within coursed through him, "_Be my warrior! Be ever the surprise!_" Derrick shifted Ellie slightly and lunged to one side… turning as he did so… he sliced downward. The Oriental flinched as he turned… the sword grazing his back. His eyes were bright… as if on some drug like PCP. He laughed and attacked once more.

Derrick backed up… blocking the strokes one-handed and wishing he'd had more practice. He wasn't good enough… as Methos had warned him… to take on a warrior… not yet.

Alisaunne… having finished with her opponent… whirled on the Oriental, and attacked with both blades. The man shifted back and focused on her.

Derrick took the opportunity to turn and force his way through the screaming men and women. _Where was Methos?_ He closed his eyes for a moment and let his senses roam free. The others could find him… if he let them have control. But in giving them control… would he lose himself. With no other choice… he unleashed them. Snapping his eyes open he felt a surge of power. _Methos!_ He headed for the center of the cavern.

Entering a curtained area… he saw the ancient lying unconscious and strapped on a gurney. An IV pole dispensed drugs. Wires from probes in his head ran to the sleeping form of another man. Derrick shifted Ellie from his shoulder and almost reverently lay her next to Methos. He rounded on the frightened elderly man at a computer console.

"End this now!" he snarled as he raised the great sword before him.

"I can't!" the old man said. "Something else has happened! I no longer have control!" Fear and confusion was evident in his eyes. Derrick grasped the sword with both hands and made to slice through the cables.

"No! Wait! That could kill them both!" the old man shouted. Derrick hesitated. "They have to be brought out by the withdrawal of the drugs and the cessation of the scenario. But something else has control of that right now."

Derrick hesitated… the others faded… and once more he was only a boy uncertain of what he needed to do to save those he loved. Behind him… on the other side of the curtain… a quickening flared. He glanced upward at Duncan and the others finishing off the soldiers. Licking his lips he stared at Ellie and Methos… both lay as if dead to this world.

His jawline hardened and he reached to pull the old man to him. "Then do it manually… but bring them back safely. End this!"

The old man nodded… fearfully shifting his glasses up on his nose… and fumbling for a handkerchief wiped his perspiring brow. "Y…ye… yessir!" he managed.

Derrick let him go… but held the great sword level and ready. He hoped his fears were not evident on his face.

-----

Wilderman tapped the fingers of one hand against his lips as he stared at the drugs. This had to be done carefully… once inside the scenarios… the correct mix and flow of drugs was necessary to safely bring them out. So precise did it have to be… that he'd entrusted it to the computer. But with the computer down… He glanced at the tall young man… and at the sword. It was like staring into the barrel of a gun… his mind was a blank. "Think!" he told himself. If he was to survive this day… if his research was not to be lost… he had to do as this rather fierce young man had said… and end this.

His hands trembling… he reached for the IV pole attached to number 47 and began adjusting the flow.

-----

Alisaunne focused her attention on the Oriental… allowing nothing but his moves to be real to her. He was well trained… and had obviously more martial arts training than most of these men. She recognized many of his moves which when combined with his swordwork were truly amazing.

But she also noticed something else. His eyes were becoming more and more glazed… as if whatever immortal power possessed him… gave him his power, speed and healing ability… were beginning to also take control of his mind.

Over and over in her head… she kept hearing Duncan's voice…

"_Vary your attack!_"

"_Use what's around you!_"

"_Be aware of where you are._"

"_If something isn't working… be ready to try something else._"

Alisaunne paused and then flipped into the air… twisting and turning… lashing out at him. She landed cat-like… but she'd missed him again.

He laughed and moved back to an unconscious immortal.

"No!" shouted Alisaunne as the Oriental's sword sliced downward through the immortal's neck… and the quickening rose about her like a sudden thunderstorm. She shuddered as it flashed and arced about her. Dropping the _wazikachi_ she forced the _katana_ before her into both of her hands. He'd done this to weaken her… so she had to be ready. She had no choice but to absorb this power… but she couldn't let her guard down nor give into the memories. She breathed out and then sucked it in… pushing the images and thoughts away as she cleared her mind. Slowly it caressed her… a gentle kiss… and was gone. Even as it faded… the Oriental attacked.

Alisaunne blocked his stroke and then the next. Slowly… with a strength she didn't know she'd ever possessed she pushed him backward.

He stumbled against the gurney, which shifted suddenly on its wheels. He stumbled, falling backwards. Then his feet went flying up.

Alisaunne struck mercilessly downward. His eyes widened momentarily as the _katana_ passed through his neck. And then it was over.

Behind her she could hear Duncan barking orders as the remaining mortals were gathered up. But it was over… and so was her life. She stepped closer to the gurney and sobbed at the decapitated body of Ian Daffyd.

-----

**__**

Within the dream

"He's bigger," Eleanor smirked from behind him.

Methos shrugged. "You know what they say… the bigger they are…"

"… the harder they fall," she finished. Their thoughts never so much in union, as at this moment. Methos reached deep within him for the ancient mindset of Death… surprised that it was not quite so buried as he'd thought.

"My name is Henry Rawlins," the armored giant said, his voice thundering through the arena.

"Really…" Methos quipped. "I thought perhaps it was Yosemite Sam or perhaps Daffy Duck… you know… one of those pathetic misfits of the cartoon world. Seeing as none of this real… surely one of those would be more fitting."

"Laugh all you want Methos. Both you and your little dream partner will be mine." The figure struck a pose and lifted his sword before him. "Does she even have a name? Is she even real? Somehow I thought it would be Duncan MacLeod you were linked to."

Methos snorted. "The Boy Scout? Sorry…" he chuckled. "I don't do slash! Now slice and dice is another matter entirely." For some reason he felt like David facing Goliath. But for all his size and study of Methos' methods… the man was an amateur. It was more a matter of finding the chink in Rawlins' armor… and exploiting it. Trouble was… did virtual armor have a chink? It flowed over his now massive form and moved as he moved.

"Distract him," Methos murmured to Eleanor.

"With pleasure!" She stepped from his side and executed a confusing set of steps… the dance… turned on its ear… as Phillip had taught her. She crouched as she crept across the sand… her arms raised… her hands extended claw-like… a veritable _chimera_ from ancient mythology… focused on the head of her enemy. Methos ducked beneath the swiftly swinging broadsword… moving faster than it seemed possible for a thing of such size. He turned and backed away… flicking his eyes over Eleanor's form. Like him… she wore almost nothing… If Rawlins struck her… would they both die?

As if the thought had also occurred to him… Rawlins turned on her. He rushed toward her… swinging the broadsword. Eleanor leaped into the air and flipped over his shoulder… raking her claws uselessly along his armored arm. Still… her movement startled him and he whipped about trying to follow her movement.

As Rawlins turned… Methos leaped forward and crashed his sword against Rawlin's midsection. Then he leaped back. The armor had held. But it glistened metallically as if scratched. Methos swiveled the broadsword… shifting if from hand to hand as he circled around and eyed Rawlins' divided attention.

Eleanor shifted in the opposite direction… her feet still moving in the complicated steps of the dance… an almost mesmerizing display of movement… designed… Methos understood… to completely befuddle one's opponent… just as his movements were.

Rawlins shook his helmeted head and leaped at her. Once more she leaped up and twisted… bouncing on his back as he endeavored to turn. At the same moment… Methos slashed again and again at the man. Then he withdrew as Eleanor landed on the ground and backed away.

Once more… he and Eleanor moved around Rawlins. Slowly… methodically… patiently.

Again… Methos could see sparks emanate from the scratches where his sword had made clear contact with the armor. If he got enough blows in… would it fade entirely? He wished he'd played more video games years ago… this was like being inside one of those.

As Eleanor passed behind Rawlin's back, she nodded and leaped onto it even as Methos struck again.

Rawlins lifted one armored hand and clutched the tiny immortal… effortlessly tossing her against the arena walls. "Now then… Methos… How will you manage without your shadow?" he hissed.

Eleanor rose on her arms and shook her head. For a moment she shimmered… Methos feared he'd lose her. But the shimmering stopped and she rose to a crouch… still focused on Rawlins.

"_Wait for it!_" Methos thought at her. She nodded and waited, shifting her weight from one leg to another as she shrugged and flexed… moving through another warm-up routine. Death re-focused his attention on Rawlins. Within him he heard his brothers clamor to be set free.

"_We… too… can help!_" Kronos whispered. "_Give us free reign for the next attack!_"

Methos was tempted… but if he set them free… would he still be in control?

"_Then just me, brother!_" Silas's bass voice rumbled. "_I was always the better fighter_."

"_Until I bested you_," thought Methos.

"_Ahh… but Methos… I had no desire to fight you. It was you who forced the fight_."

Methos forced their voices down. "_I say when! I say how much! I say if!_" Once more he leapt at Rawlins and landed three good solid blows before the man's larger size and strength forced him back. His sword landed a shallow blow across Methos' chest.

Stumbling back… aware that he was bleeding, Methos nodded to Eleanor.

With a trilling cry… reminiscent of the Celtic warriors of her youth… she flung herself into Rawlins' arms and pulled desperately at the fastenings of his helmet. Like some lost head in battle… the helmet came free and went bouncing across the arena… fading into nothingness at the third bounce.

Rawlins' hands grabbed at her as she bit his nose.

Again he tossed her to the ground… then slammed the broadsword into her. He pulled it back to swipe at her head and was attacked by a suddenly more massive Methos… tattooed… face painted… a great battle axe swinging mightily with such force that it buried itself in Rawlins' chest. He staggered back as the axe was withdrawn. His armor sparked and crackled about him as it faded.

Methos was on one knee… the sword lay on the ground in one lax hand while he reclaimed his body. Darkly he glared at the suddenly armorless Rawlins. The bitter leer across Methos' face was one he'd not used in millennia. But one that he'd often seen reflected in Caspian.

He rose… broadsword in hand and rained a hail of blows on Rawlins… beating him to his knees. Capturing his massive broadsword in one of Kronos' disarm moves… he flipped it up and away to fade in the air as it flew across the arena.

"_Give him to us!_" Cassandra said as she materialized beside Methos.

"_To us!_" said Kyra. "_For all he has done._"

"_To us!_" Greg Powers stared hungrily at Rawlins.

"He used us… He must die!" Robert and Gina de Valicourt screamed in unison.

Rawlins looked around. "You can't be here! You have no place in this!"

Methos lowered his sword and reclaimed himself… aware that about thirty immortals had suddenly appeared within the scenario. "Take him… I make a gift of him to you."

Alex Raven leaned toward Rawlins and pulled his blonde hair into one hand. "We are one!"

Kiem Sun laughed as he clasped one hand about Rawlins' throat. "Foolish mortal. You sought to be one of us without understanding who and what we are!"

Michelle Webster lay one hand on Rawlins chin and wrenched it away. "We are one with one another and with all living things… Our power is the power of life in all its glory, and the power of being one flows through all of us."

There was a roar as the dreamform of the collection of immortals surged forward.

Methos turned his back on the howling mob as it descended on Rawlins' prostrate body… He knelt beside Eleanor's unmoving form and gathered it into his arms. He rocked back and forth… aware that he had no sense of her in this moment of triumph. Slowly her body shimmered and faded away.

* * *

_The final two chapters and the epilogue will be posted tomorrow, along with the Afterword._--elle


	120. Chapter 116

Chapter 116

Watcher Compound, Switzerland

Duncan MacLeod, _katana_ gripped loosely in his hand pushed past several of the milling mortals. He'd turned the ordering of the captives and their dispensation over to Meyers. He had to take control of his people.

He put out a hand to comfort Alisaunne's shuddering shoulders. She shrugged him off. Her sobs cut into him as if they were wounds, which would never heal. Ian was dead… and she was bereft. Would anything help her hold up against Nestor now?

"Duncan!" He turned and welcomed Amanda into his arms… crushing her lips to his.

"I love you!" he laughed when he finally pulled back.

"I know!" she said and returned his kiss passionately forming her body to his and hanging onto him as if she feared he'd vanish.

Duncan closed his arms about her slender form and lifted her slightly as he turned. Above on the catwalk… he saw Phillip kneel by Keith's corpse and sigh. The Swordmaster lifted his eyes and stared around at the carnage. Cory Raines leaned exhausted on the catwalk railing. He met the Highlander's gaze with a smirk and a small salute.

"John? John?"

Regrettably shifting Amanda to his side, Duncan watched a somber Grace move through the curtained areas seeking Kage. Duncan turned back towards Alisaunne and again lay one hand tentatively on her shoulder. This time she turned and huddled against him sobbing as if the world had ended.

Methos opened his eyes.

Eleanor sat beside him, her eyes bright green, and a smile on her lips.

"Are you real," he said lifting one hand to caress her face. "You feel real."

She laughed, and the familiar sound of tinkling bells surrounded him.

At a movement he saw Derrick smile at them both and then grab a short white-haired man Methos thought he'd seen in some of his dreams and shove him through the curtain. He vaguely saw the obviously dead Rawlins lying on another gurney.

Methos and Eleanor were alone.

"You have to be real," he added. "You look terrible."

She laughed aloud and ran a hand over his scalp. "Those are healing nicely." She winked at him. "At least I still have my hair."

"What?" He raised one hand and felt his shaven scalp.

"It should grow back," she said teasingly. "But even if it doesn't… I think bald is sexy." She smirked impishly. "Or maybe it's just you I find sexy."

He pulled her down on him and kissed her… aware that only a sheet lay between them. "I feared I'd lost you."

"Not a chance," she gazed at him. "I will never leave you… nor close my heart to you… as long as you want me." She lay against him and sighed, her thoughts open to him.

As the events of the past few weeks flowed over him he smiled. "We have a daughter."

"She _is_ something," Eleanor said. "But she doesn't really feel like ours… She's something conjured up out of the power of the ancients to complete their union. We were just the conduits of her creation… we… and Darius. Of course now… we could see if it works the way it was supposed to. He seems to have given us another chance."

Eleanor shifted in his arms and pulled out a creased letter. "I saved this for us to read together." He helped her open it. "Although I don't think there will be much in there that we don't already know… except maybe his reasons."

"Don't you two ever think of anything else?"

Methos and Eleanor glanced up at Duncan's face. He stood holding the curtain aside for a moment.

"We have to get re-acquainted," Methos insisted.

"Well… remember you're in a public place. There are a lot of people around."

"I'm well aware of that!" snapped Methos.

"Just wanted to be certain." Duncan grinned. "Nice haircut."

"At least I still have my head!" Methos yelled as Duncan withdrew his through the curtain.

Duncan leaned back in. He sobered. "But not everyone does. We lost some people. Let's hope that doctor can awaken everyone that's still alive. Some of them aren't responding even though we've removed the IV's."

"Let me know if I can help… I _am_ a doctor. And see if someone can find me some clothes!" Methos groused while Eleanor laughed… bells tinkling.

Duncan nodded and was gone. Methos could feel immortals all about him… and he could hear lots of voices… some of them very unhappy voices… very confused voices.

Eleanor unfolded the letter… they began to read.

Grace pulled the IV free of John's arm and waited. Within minutes his eyes flickered open.

"John!" she smiled and bent to kiss him.

He did not respond.

"John?" she said, fearful that he was one of the lost ones… the ones who lived… but whose minds seemed frozen and lost like patients in a waking coma.

His eyes met hers and he closed them as he sobbed.

"You're fine… John… you're fine." Softly she stroked his shaven head. He was fine. He had to be fine.

"It's gone, Grace… the peace I felt… the acceptance. Kage still lives within me." He struggled to a sitting position and slid off the gurney. His knees buckled and she supported him. She wrapped the sheet about him. Kage struggled to the next gurney and stared sadly into the blank face of Carl Robinson. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know that was still in there." He met Grace's eyes. "We have to help them. We have to care for them. I can't let anyone kill them… or take their heads. Maybe with time… they'll heal… they'll be back."

Grace nodded. "Yes… Together… we'll take care of them all."

John sobbed as he lay his head on her shoulder. "I was a beast… a monster. I killed him… and I enjoyed it!"

Grace held him as she would a baby. He was her love… and she would stand by him… for all the days to come. No matter what.


	121. Chapter 117

****

Chapter 117

Paris, the next day

Duncan tapped lightly on Joe's hospital room door. Inside he saw Amy, Joe's daughter… and a squirming little girl of about three years of age.

A doctor stood at the foot of Joe's bed, clipboard in hand. "… and if you continue to respond to treatment… I think maybe we can let you go in about a week."

"That's great… Hey Doc can you pull some strings and have my grandson moved into my room?" He looked up at Mac's knock. "Mac… Amanda!" His toothy grin said it all.

"I don't want to interrupt," Duncan began.

Joe waved him in. "Nonsense… you two are family."

Amanda held out the bouquet of flowers and leaned down to kiss him. "And don't forget it."

"Never!" he laughed.

She straightened and said something about getting some water for the flowers.

The little girl squirmed off her mother's lap. "Are you Grandpa's friends?" she asked.

Duncan nodded. "Very good friends."

"Mac… this is Abigail. Her brother is downstairs."

Duncan pulled up a chair. "Burt filled me in. He got off on the third floor to visit Dawson Meyers." He grinned, winking at Joe.

"In that case," Amy said rising and kissing Joe. "Abby and I are going downstairs. Don't let him up, Mr. MacLeod… no matter what he says." She clasped one of Abigail's hands. The mother and daughter walked out.

"Cute!" said Duncan. "Who's she named for?"

"Amy's grandmother… Laura's mother."

"I'm sorry about Laura."

"Yeah… me too. But none of this was your fault Mac."

"No… it wasn't." For a moment a dark shadow passed over MacLeod's face. "We immortals have our own cross to bear Joe… and our own battles and destinies. I once told Horton that. He tried to interfere in and change the game… and this Rawlins did too. Thankfully… they are both dead… while we yet remain. Now… we need to find a way to forge a future for all immortals… one that doesn't include racial suicide."

"Yeah," Joe said blanching slightly. "And we Watchers need to learn to keep our mitts off unless invited. Maybe the answers lie somewhere in between where and what we were… and where we are now."

Duncan nodded. "I have something for you." The Highlander pulled a small card out of his pocket and handed it to Joe who looked at it quizzically. "When you get to feeling better, Ellie says to put a Chicago area code in front of that series of numbers and call her. She says you owe her a tour of the city."

Joe smiled. "They're all right then?"

Duncan nodded. "Methos is still a little worse for wear and tear and Ellie won't leave his side… but I think they're fine."

"I heard there were some losses."

"While some awoke and were physically fine… they are understandably upset and confused. I think Cassandra may have finally found her calling. She's going to work with some of them in counseling sessions. She seems to have finally moved beyond her anger. Several immortals were beheaded in several locations around the globe. We may never know all of those who were lost… their quickenings wasted by mortals. But the worst repercussion is that some of the immortals we found in Switzerland, while still alive, were evidently drained of their quickening somehow. It was transferred into the men we fought. Those mortal men took on characteristics… without really being immortal. And when they died… no quickening was released. The immortals they drained still live, but I fear their quickenings may also have been lost. They exist in waking comas. Grace thinks they may yet wake up… given time. That doctor doesn't seem to understand what's happened. Burt's got him in a cell… but he isn't making a lot of sense. His assistant… evidently the only other scientist who truly understood what they were doing is dead."

"What'll happen to them? Duncan if there is anything we can do…"

"We take care of our own for the moment, Joe. I don't think any of them would want to be in Watcher hands any longer. Phillip made arrangements for them to be taken to Niebos. Grace and John are accompanying them. No heads will be taken… not now at least. We have to give them the opportunity to come back… and see what happens."

"Phillip? Niebos?" Joe looked at him with a thousand questions already crowding his mind.

"The Swordmaster. He's even allowing a limited Watcher presence on the island."

"The Swordmaster? Of Alexander the Great? Damn… we thought he was dead. Ellie mentioned having known him centuries ago… but I had no idea he was still alive."

"No? Well he is. By the way…" Duncan grinned. "She suggested that I ask you about some chronicle you wrote. She said maybe you'd let me read it."

Joe laughed and reached for Ellie's chronicle. "Be my guest. If she said it was okay… then it's okay."

"What's okay?" Amanda asked as she re-entered. She'd filched a vase from the nurses' station and arranged the flowers in it. Setting it on the bedside table she positioned it and stood back to see if it looked all right.

Duncan reached up and pulled her into his lap. "By the way… have I told you how much I love you?"

"Oooh… you mean in the last hour?" Amanda kicked up her heels. "Let's see…" Anything else she might have said was lost in their passionate and teasing kiss.

Joe took a deep labored breath and smiled. It was good to have friends… and family.

****

The Grove

"Come along now," Derrick said as he led Alisaunne across the running water of the sewer below the street. They'd accompanied Methos and Ellie back to the grove. The couple wanted to get to know her a little, but the girl was so despondent… that Derrick's fading memories of Darius had flared momentarily and he'd seized on them to find something he hoped would help her.

"Let me talk to her," he'd told the couple and led Alisaunne into the sewer. Once they reached the cavern, he handed her Ellie's small _Maglite_ and with a practiced stroke… he fired up the small generator. The small white lights flickered and then glowed brightly, illuminating the cavern and the strange writing on the walls.

Alisaunne gasped. "I know this. I wrote it… in the early days." One hand raised tentatively to caress a symbol. Her brow knotted in confusion. She raised her other hand to her head and blinked.

Derrick nodded to himself. He knew that feeling. Darius had felt it for years. Derrick also had experienced it, that feeling of remembering things and then wondering where they came from.

"I've never been here before," Alisaunne said as she turned to face him. "Have I?"

Derrick shrugged. "I don't think so. Not really. I doubt you saw anything when Ellie led you through here before." He smiled when Alisaunne shook her head. "I don't really know what happened, Alisaunne. I shouldn't have remembered anything until I was grown… and now… it's all fading… except a few memories of Darius with Ellie or with Methos or Phillip… or with you.

"He always wanted to know what the writing said, but the Ancient's memories withheld the answers from him… and only teased him with the knowledge that there was an answer. His journal and the artifacts only confirmed Darius' belief that something was here that he… or that the Ancient Immortal felt was important. You have the Ancient's quickening and memories. I don't. You were always meant to have it once you became immortal… but Darius died before he could tell anyone about you. And then Nestor happened to you. He was desperate that you not be lost. He believed you were important."

"How?"

Derrick shook his head. "Something to do with your birth… and the re-united power of the three Ancients… long separated by their crimes and mistrust… and lost without one another. I don't know… maybe the answers are here." He gestured toward the walls of the cavern.

Alisaunne stared at the walls and nodded. "It's here. It's all here. I just have to remember it."

Derrick smiled as he left her to her studies, and retreated back through the tunnel to climb the slope to the grove. He chuckled to see Methos stretched on a blanket on the grass near the spring and sipping water from Ellie's cupped hands. The ancient pulled her into his lap and showered her with kisses while she squealed.

The boy picked up the duffel bag containing among other things, the computer, the great sword and the crystal, and slung it over one shoulder. Slowly he approached.

Ellie looked up at him soberly. "So… you really are leaving."

"You always said I would."

Ellie rose and clasped his hand. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly. "Be careful out there in the world."

Derrick shrugged. "I will be. But I don't belong here… and I'm old enough now to make my own way."

"We won't be staying here either," Methos added as he stood. Thin, dark fuzz was beginning to appear on his scalp. He lay his hands on Ellie's shoulders and she raised one hand to clasp one of his. Their fingers laced together.

Derrick nodded. "I want to see the world. I want to see what's really out there."

"What will you do?" Methos asked.

"I may take work aboard a merchant ship… sail the ocean… visit new lands."

"If something happens…" Ellie bit her lip.

Derrick shrugged. "By knowing the things I know… I might only have this one life. I need to live it. I need to concentrate on living each day as it happens… and not live in the fear or the anticipation of something else. But if something does happen…" He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'll be in touch. But if I grow old and die… I will die knowing that I have truly lived a single life… and… that I have known love."

The young man shifted the duffel and crossed to the iron gate. He unlocked it and handed Ellie the key with a wink. Then he passed out of the grove… and into the waiting world.


	122. Epilogue

Epilogue

__

Paris, April 1988

… sketch the trees and the daffodils.  
Catch the breeze and the winter chills, in colors on the snowy linen land.

from **_Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)_** by Don MacLean

Alisaunne hopped from the stones surrounding the spring and rolled in the grass. Lying on her back she gazed up through the overhanging tree limbs, through the screen, and into the blue sky. She giggled. She liked it here.

Rolling to one side she eyed the narrow stone stairs that led to where Uncle Jacques was working. _Madame_ Lucerne had to go away today… so Uncle Jacques was watching her. The door at the top of the stairs was open and she knew he was listening for her.

Alisaunne scrambled to her feet and crossed to the base of the stone stairs. He'd told her to stay down here… but surely she could climb them to see him. She was on the third step when she looked up and saw his tall figure at the top of the stairs as if he'd known she was climbing them.

She waved and started up once more… only to be swept into his arms as he carried her back down and sat beside her on the stones around the spring.

"You must not go up there, Alisaunne. The stairs are treacherous. What if you fell?"

Alisaunne shrugged. "I missed you."

Uncle Jacques chuckled. "Yes… I suppose you did. All right." He held up his arm and she climbed into his lap and sighed as she wrapped her fingers around his and let his calm presence fill her as it always had. She was only truly happy when she was with him. Sometimes she wondered where he went during the day. Or why he was sometimes gone for days at a time.

Madame Lucerne had said only, "_Ton oncle travail_… your uncle works."

"Where?"

But if _Madame_ Lucerne knew… she said nothing. Today she'd gone away… and Uncle Jacques had opened the iron gate and let her play in the magical garden. Alisaunne was always happy to play here. She only wished he'd play with her.

"Now wait here, Alisaunne," he said after a several minutes. He rose, staggered a bit and raised a hand to his head. He smiled down at her. "I'll be back down in a few moments."

She'd nodded. She wondered why he always seemed so tired anymore… especially whenever he let her sit in his lap. Alisaunne kicked her feet back and forth before her and giggled. She wanted to run and jump… not sit still.

A few minutes late Uncle Jacques returned… carrying some books. He set the two smaller ones on the grass by his feet and opened the large one in his lap. As he bent over it… pen in hand… running his fingers over the pages and tapping the pen… Alisaunne stood up and leaned over his shoulder.

"What is that _mon oncle_?"

He smiled at her. "Just a book of my thoughts. Everything that's important to me is in this book."

"Am I?"

He smiled at her and touched the tip of her nose with a soft chuckle. "_Oui_!" He flipped through some pages and showed her a page.

She leaned closely to the strange marks and shook her head. "I don't see me."

"Ahh…" He carefully wrote out a beautifully curved symbol. Tapping the word he smiled at her, "Alisaunne."

Sitting beside him once more, the little girl pulled the book closer and turned it about. Finally she handed it back and shrugged while shaking her head in confusion.

"Perhaps this will make sense."

He took her small hand and drew over the lines on her palm then he turned her hand palm down and pressed it to a blank page. Next he held her hand steady and drew a line around it. When Alisaunne lifted her hand… the marks he'd made on it had appeared on the page.

"Now… you are in the book."

"Is _ma mere_ in the book?"

He looked at her soberly. Finally he nodded and flipped to another page. There was a lock of black hair there. She lifted it out and held it close to her own. Then she peered at the pages. More marks that made no sense. She returned the lock of hair.

"_Mon pere_?"

"_Certainment_!" He turned to another page. More marks.

She sighed.

"What is wrong _ma chere_?"

"I wanted pictures."

"Alas… I have none."

Alisaunne kicked her heels back and forth despondently.

"Never mind, Alisaunne. When you are grown… what's in this book will mean more to you than pictures."

"It will be mine?"

Uncle Jacques nodded. He closed the big book and reached down to pick up the thick book. "Your mother gave me this book." She held it and flipped through the pages, then handed it back with a shrug.

"_Oui_… that one is for grownups. This one… however… Perhaps I could read it to you. This one belonged to your mama. There are no pictures here, either, I fear. It is called **_Candide _**and was one of your mama's favorite books. When you are older… I shall give it to you so that you can read it for yourself."

Alisaunne curled up next to him to listen. She loved his voice… He seemed to paint pictures with it whenever he read to her. The afternoon passed into evening.

When darkness came, _Madame_ Lucerne returned and Uncle Jacques handed her over to her, patting her head.

"You promise, _mon oncle_," she said. "The books will be mine someday?"

He nodded. "They will be yours. And when they are… they will mean more to you than anything in the world."

"Even you?"

He laughed. "_Oui, ma chere_, even me." He kissed her brow and left… closing the door behind him.

#30#

****

Author's Afterword

This story grew in the telling… as do all stories… especially those we feel are true somehow. Myth is like that. Myth is truth wrapped in lovely magical images that entice us and feed our imaginations. At times I feared I had reached too far, created too complicated a scenario, and would never have the skill to reach the end I could see… an end that changed only slightly as the story took its final form.

In the end, Derrick always left to join the world, and Ian had always died… or been lost… but in some versions… the reasons for being in the grove at the end… were different. I won't elaborate… they may yet find a place in some future tale.

The map hidden in **_Les Miserables_** remains unfound, as do the artifacts whose exact location remains unknown… but the clue to finding them is still somewhere at the old chapel near the battle of Waterloo. I haven't forgotten… but I couldn't yet work them in.

On the other hand, the writing in the cavern is being studied by Alisaunne, holder of the Ancient One's Quickening, if not all of his memories, and immortals begin to understand the unity of their existence with all living things. The dangers inherent in the unity, first suggested to Connor MacLeod by Ramirez in the first film, will become more apparent as the years pass. So too will the sacrifice necessary to have children… and why it has always been hidden from them… until they were ready. The mystery of the legend of the Gathering… and the final battle will also be eventually addressed.

As for Derrick… he still has a lot to learn… and years will pass before he grows into the future Cassandra once saw for him in a vision. Until then… I shall leave him in peace.

As for who survived, who's in comas, and who died… we shall see… Oh yes… we shall see. The repercussions for all that endured the dreamstate also wait.

My thanks once again to Gregory Widen for his vision in the creation of this concept of immortality, and to **_Panzer/Davis_** et al for keeping it going and allowing the rest of us to play in it. My thanks also to David Abramowitz and his writers for the creation of all these lovely canon characters to work with. We know so little about some of them… sometimes only a name… that they are fun to envision and develop. The other, more familiar ones like Duncan, Amanda, Methos, and Joe… are old friends we enjoy with each new visit. The fun is in allowing them to grow and evolve… and yet be forever the same… true to the portraits painted of them within the series.

The Connor MacLeod timeline with Amber Conroy moves between the events pictured in the original film, the episode _The Gathering_, as well as **Endgame**. Duncan MacLeod, Amanda, Joe, Methos and Amy Brennan-Thomas were from the series. Also from the series I took the following: Felice Martins (Felicia Martins), Keith Boyer, Matt McCormick, Robert and Gina de Valicourt, Alex Raven, Katya, Kyra, Michele Webster, Carl Robinson, Derek Worth, Cassandra, Grace Chandel, Kage (_a.k.a._ John Kirin), Reagan Cole, Stephen Keane, Claudia Jardine, Greg Powers, Kenny, Ursa, Cory Raines, and Walter Graham. While I added some of the interpersonal relationships, I used their various episodes and **_The New Watcher Chronicles_** CD-ROM as the resource for my characterizations of them.

From the series **Highlander: The Raven**, I lifted Nick Wolfe, Burt Meyers, Raphael, Jeremy Dexter, and Jade. While the facts of their pasts and their attitudes came from what little was known about them that I could find, their relationships and some of the information I used about them was entirely created.

I don't own any of the canon characters… although I wish I did. I trust I've not presented them as too far from how they were in the series… at least the ones that we know fairly well. As always, I try to take what we know from the movies and the series, and push the boundaries to tell the story I want to tell.

All other characters are mine and are original with me. Anyone wishing to use any of them in stories should contact me. Phrases from songs were used without permission, but I hope I may be excused for finding lines in song that inflame the imagination… and help me to find focus and theme for my stories.

The concept of requiring three immortals to procreate… came from Vonda McIntyre's excellent novel **_Dreamsnake_**, but was also a concept used in the series **Alien Nation**. I took the idea of three… and worked it slightly differently. It just seemed to make sense… at least to me.

I've begun the next one in this series… but it may be some time before anyone sees it. Instead… I will be focusing my energies on an original novel and some short stories that work in that original world. As for **Highlander**… I will be exploring some other stories with other canon characters and other original ones. In moving this series into the future… I found I missed doing flashbacks. I have plans for another **_Highlander Fable_** starring Hugh Fitzcairn, and some readers have asked about a Phillip story that will finally deal with a lot of his background. I've also been working on a sequel to _No Place to Run, Nowhere to Hide_. Aja may also put in another appearance in a story featuring her.

As for Eleanor… essentially her story is done. She still has a future before her… but her long journey alone in the world is at last over. I think I will leave her in peace for now… and let her rest in the arms of love.


End file.
